


Shake It Up

by psyraah



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bartender AU, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-05-25 02:05:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6176026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psyraah/pseuds/psyraah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Roy lands eyes on a depressed blond he gets the urge to stir thing up. </p><p>Unfortunately for him, he's the one who ends up drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Done as a collaboration with [Sassy](http://sassyfirealchemist.tumblr.com), who did this [_gorgeous_ art](http://sassyfirealchemist.tumblr.com/post/140558707792/so-i-did-this-super-fun-colab-with-psyraah-i). I am also extremely grateful for her endless patience and letting me play around with her AU (and the summary because I suck at summaries I'm so sorry) <3333
> 
> Thank you to nerni too for her assistance with many things <3

For some, alcohol was pleasure. It was a release from the stresses of everyday life, something to quicken the transition away from professionalism, from heavy lifting, from little cogs in your brain whirring all day.

For others, it was forgetting, and coping, and addiction. That was how it had been, though thankfully rarely anymore, for Roy Mustang.

And tonight, that was how it seemed to be for the young man seated in front of Roy, considering that he had just downed three shots of whiskey in quick succession and had just ordered a fourth. The pub was fairly empty, which was good as it meant less potential victims in the unfortunate situation of the man becoming aggressive from a little too much to drink. The dim lights tonight barely lit up tables for half a dozen patrons, and reflected dull yellow off the man’s tail of blond that snaked down in a braid. His fingers were making a peculiar sound as he let them dance around the rim of the glass.

Roy himself might’ve been in need of a drink himself. Despite it all, it did not escape Roy that the current object of his attentions was undeniably hot, and he was having some impure thoughts about those fingers doing many other things. It was also incredibly hard to remember that one should not flirt with hot blonds when they looked as though they were having a small existential crisis and staring at a glass of whiskey as though it might help solve them.

Although, if flirting distracted said blonds from said existential crises, surely Roy was doing some good in the world?

In his mind, he heard a sigh that sounded incredibly like some strange mixture of Riza and his mother.

 _It’s not my fault_ , he thought. Definitely not his fault when there were so many metaphors to be made about whiskey and the colour of Braid Boy’s eyes.

“Would you like some food with that?” Roy asked, taking his time puttering around with bottles and glasses. “Something to eat?”

The kid merely shrugged, fiddling impatiently with the end of his braid. “Nah, I’m all right, thanks. Just the drink’s fine.”

Braid Boy was looking decidedly under-the-weather, and Roy wasn’t sure that a body that small could hold that much alcohol in the first place. So despite the refusal, Roy ducked back into the kitchen to grab a bowl of fries. They’d been sitting under the oven lights for god knows how long, but he didn’t think that the kid would be that fussed about free food. When Roy set the bowl down next to a new glass of whiskey, the way gold eyes lit up, just a little, made Roy think that he hadn’t been wrong.

“On the house,” he said. Braid Boy looked between the bowl and Roy a few times, before reaching for one and eating it in small bites.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. Then he pulled a face. “Shit, how long have you had these sitting around for?”

Roy smiled sheepishly. So much for the kid not caring. “A little while,” he admitted. “But it’s free, you’re not going to take it?”

The kid’s scowl deepened, if that was at all possible. “Not saying that,” he said sullenly. “Just if I want to get shit-faced, I usually do it with better food.”

Normally, Roy might be a little more annoyed, but this kid really looked as though he’d been chucked under a bus a few days back, hadn’t slept since the incident, and then some. Without a word, Roy left Braid Boy scowling into his drink, and ducked back into the kitchen. A few minutes later, he returned with a bowl of extremely hot fries, golden and fresh.

“There. Wait—” But it was too late, and the garbled noise the kid made when he discovered just _how_ recently the fries had come from the oven had Roy laughing.

“I was going to tell you, they’re hot.”

“Yeah, well, thanks for the fuckin’ warning.” But Braid Boy’s mouth had crept upwards into a small smile. “Thanks.”

They were silent for another few minutes, Roy arranging bottles so that he had something to do with his hands. In all honesty, the bottles most definitely did not need to be arranged, and he should really start clearing up the tables. But there was barely anyone left in the pub, and he really didn’t want to step away from the bar and relinquish his view of Braid Boy picking his way through the bowl to find the crunchy fries. The little frown of concentration, the way he poked out his tongue, and even how his fingers were shaking a little from the alcohol, were all insanely adorable.

The food seemed to have distracted him from the drink for a moment, and Roy counted it as a success. But the kid still looked tired, and not in a lack of sleep way, though Roy didn’t doubt that that might also be the case. No, he was…worn, like those horrible highlighters Roy used when was doing stock takes. The ink had long dried but you kept desperately attempting to milk out the slightest bit of colour from it because it was all you had, even though trying only resulted in the sound of the grating drag across paper.

And there was definitely something wrong with Roy when all his thought processes revolved around shitty stationery at his shitty job. Still, it was better than other things that often occupied his mind: heat and gunfire and the acrid smell of smoke.

He had no way of knowing what was bothering Braid Boy, but maybe he could find out. “So, the fries are free, but I thought maybe I could get a favour in return?” Roy was too busy running a cloth around the rim of a glass to notice that his companion had frozen, fingers stopped mid-way through lifting another fry to his mouth.

“A favour?” The tone was enough to have Roy looking up, and the intensity of the glare that was levelled at him was enough to make him realise that there might have been an insinuation in his words that he had definitely not intended.

“Well, not really,” he said quickly, because Braid Boy’s scowl was getting increasingly more pronounced, and shit, Roy was trying to make the kid feel better, not worse. “I was just wondering—”

Too late.

“What, do I look like some cheap fuck to you, you bastard?”

“No, that’s not what I was trying to—”

“I don’t need your shitty food or some pity fuck,” he snarled, cheeks flushed red, and Roy didn’t think that all of it was from the alcohol. Shit, he’d really done it this time. “So here—” Some bills were slammed down on the counter so hard that Roy was afraid it’d crack. “—that’s enough to cover any fucking ‘favours’ you want.” The stool was shoved aside with a screech, footsteps stomped away, and Roy saw one last flick of the braid before the door was slammed shut.

The **_We Are OPEN_** sign clattered against the glass of the door, and all Roy could do for the next few moments was stare as it swung back and forth, mimicking the way that his stomach was turning. It didn’t really register quite yet, and the kid’s exit was like something out of one of those overly dramatic soap operas Roy would watch at three in the morning when he couldn’t sleep. Slowly, then immediately, like the snail’s crawl to the top of a rollercoaster before the drop, the disappointment came crashing in.

“Shit,” he muttered. Braid Boy’s anger, his ragged expression, his rapid departure, flashed through Roy’s mind over and over. He hadn’t—he’d just wanted to ask for a name, maybe let the kid vent a little. Remembering his words, Roy winced internally, the embarrassment flooding him now. It was second nature, to be a little charming, a little flirty, and he hadn’t thought twice before the words had come out of his mouth. Luckily, the pub had emptied and no one else was around to witness his humiliation, but that he had done it in the first place was bad enough.

Resigned, Roy wiped down the bar, and started to make his way round to the tables to clean them up and pack everything away for the night. However, once it was all done, he didn’t go home, not yet, even as his colleagues started to leave one by one. Once everyone else had gone, Roy sat down gloomily in the kitchen, a single bulb illuminating the room as he chewed on a bowl of fries that had gone cold and sipped at a glass of whiskey.

* * *

It was another week before Roy saw Braid Boy again, though Roy had certainly pictured him many times in his mind in the intervening period. Since that night, he’d replayed the scene in his mind over and over, like a particularly horrible movie that involved ridiculous second-hand embarrassment for the gormless protagonist.

Tonight, even just looking over to see that flash of blond, tucked away at the corner like precious treasure, had Roy feeling like a fool all over again. Braid Boy had resolutely stayed away from Roy’s station at the bar tonight, which perhaps compounded the feeling further. Instead, he was facing away from Roy, conversing with another kid with hair the colour of sunlit honey over his steak. A pair of crutches was propped up against the wall next to Braid Boy’s friend, and Roy had seen him hobble in on them while Braid Boy had held the door open and watched anxiously.

And he had definitely not noticed these details by carefully observing the pair for the last thirty minutes since they had crossed over the threshold.

He only stopped said careful observation when it got to the point of overly distracting. It apparently meant that he was unable to screw on lids properly, which resulted in a slip of his hand on the cocktail shaker, a split-second in which the only thing he could think was “oh shit”, and a Mai Tai drenching his shirt.

Roy closed his eyes and slowly counted to five, while the customer whose drink he’d just fused with his shirt stood by in uncertain silence. There were usually several options in such a situation that one could choose, and Roy prayed that she would take the “pretend my eyes are elsewhere and nothing happened” option, rather than the “let me further your embarrassment with my good intentions” one.

No such luck, though.

“Oh my god, are you all right? Do you need any help cleaning that up, I can—”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Roy said through the smile that he’d forcibly applied to his face. “I just need to…go clean up. I’m very sorry, but Rebecca here can take care of you.” Wooden smile still intact, Roy gave a nod of thanks to his grinning (likely at his expense) colleague who had heard the clang-splash of his idiocy and come hurrying over.

Braid Boy had to be emitting some kind of weird wave that infiltrated Roy’s mind and filled his thoughts. It wasn’t fair that he was still thinking about Braid Boy when he was out of sight. Shouldn’t he be out of mind too, or something?

But Roy knew that life wasn’t fair, had learned that long ago. After all, he thought mournfully, despite the hard work he put into this job, they apparently were still too stingy to afford proper hand-dryers in the toilets. Instead, these ones blew out horribly cold air at extremely inappropriate volumes, as though sheer noise could make up for the fact that it was hopelessly inadequate at drying off a cactus in a desert, let alone Roy’s Mai Tai-ed uniform.

But even the constant assault on his ears couldn’t drive out the thought of a slammed door and angry words. He didn’t even _know_ the guy, but the insult on his face as he’d screamed at Roy had certainly made an impression. A horrible, guilt-stained, regret-tainted one.

And, well, if he were completely honest with himself, Roy had been hoping for something to happen there, even if it was just a little something. But of course he’d gone and messed everything up before he’d even introduced himself, so amongst all the guilt and embarrassment was also…disappointment.

The screaming of the hand-dryer was so loud that Roy didn’t even hear when the door to the bathroom squealed open, and it was only when Roy caught movement from the corner of his eye that he realised there was anyone else in there. They moved from the tap to the paper towel dispenser, and Roy was about ready to dismiss them when the familiar colour caught his eye, and he whipped his head up.

Braid Boy was currently yanking paper towels out of the dispenser as though he’d been personally offended by them, and they had insulted his ancestors and future descendants to boot. Rubbing them against his hands (and his arms, oh, those were certainly some wonderful arms), the blond moved to go past Roy and deposit them in the bin when he looked up and caught Roy’s eye.

His brows immediately arranged themselves into a scowl.

The obnoxious whooshing of the hand-dryer needed to stop. It took a moment for Roy to register that he was the one causing the noise in the first place, so he immediately dropped the grip on his shirt as though he’d been scalded, moving away from the metal monstrosity. There was also the added bonus of Roy no longer standing like an idiot, stretching his shirt out as though to provide a safe landing for any miniature people that might be inhabiting the hand-dryer and ready to escape from it’s deafening hell.

Staring at a stranger in silence was _really_ quite awkward; Roy had to do something.

“Hello.”

Good move, Mustang.

Braid Boy’s eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Hi.”

Great, now what?

“How are you?” Roy really was a conversational master.

Braid Boy shrugged. “Been better. Could be worse.”

Roy swallowed. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

The kid shrugged again. “Thanks.”

Another length of silence with golden eyes on his own. Roy’s stomach was in knots, and he felt incredibly idiotic. Hadn’t he pictured this, rehearsed it in his head countless times over the past week? Though he hadn’t quite pictured that it would be in the middle of their crappy bathroom underneath purple lights, he had the words, didn’t he? All he had to do was…say them.

It was only when Braid Boy moved to walk past him that Roy finally sprang into action.

“Wait. Um, I’m not sure if you remember me. I was at the bar when you were here the other night?”

The kid nodded after a moment. “Yeah, I remember,” he said cautiously,

Good. He remembered.

That was good, right?

Shit, now he had to actually go ahead and say something. Braid Boy was looking at him expectantly, though suspicion was still in his eyes.

Roy took a deep breath, then a plunge. “I just wanted to apologise to you for what I said the other night. I realise that what I thought was witty banter was, in fact, easily misinterpreted. That was not at all what I intended, and I’m sorry I didn’t think it through.”

The scowl was gone now, as was the suspicious squinting, and instead, Braid Boy’s eyes had blown a little wide at Roy’s words. He blinked once, twice, and Roy supposed that out of the range of possible reactions, this one wasn’t too bad. Though he still wished that the kid would _say_ something, instead of standing there pole-axed with a crumpled paper towel still damp in his hands.

“That’s…all I really wanted to say,” Roy said eventually, once the silence was positively screaming.

“That’s—s’all right,” Braid Boy said gruffly. The scowl was back, and now he’d crossed his arms too. “Guess I overreacted a bit.”

Roy shook his head. “No, even so, it was—I shouldn’t have asked like that.”

“So what were you trying to ask then?”

“Oh. I just wanted a name.” Roy smiled weakly. “If that was all right.”

Braid Boy’s brows winged up in surprise. “Do you usually make it sound like you’re asking for sex when you’re trying to get someone’s name?”

Roy huffed out a breath that might’ve come out on the tail end of a laugh if he didn’t think that laughing was perhaps not entirely appropriate at the moment. “No, unfortunately I seem to default to—”

“Ed.”

Roy blinked. “Pardon?”

“My name. It’s Ed.” The kid made a face. “Well, Edward, but yeah. Ed’s fine.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Edward,” he said. “Roy.”

The exaggerated contortion of facial muscles suggested that something was not to Edward’s liking. “Ed’s good. You been working here long? I never noticed you before.”

So Ed had _noticed_ him, had he?

“No, I used to work here, but then I went…overseas. I came back about a year ago, but I’ve only been back at work for about three weeks now.”

Ed nodded. “Right.”

Another awkward pause; how many more of these would Roy have to suffer through tonight?

“Well, I should get back,” he said eventually, gesturing vaguely at the direction of the door.

“Yeah, my brother’s waiting for me too,” Ed replied.

Then he smiled.

It really, _really_ wasn’t fair. Who on earth decided that it’d be a good idea, to sculpt a guy with hair like braided gold, arms that had Roy practically drooling, _and_ a smile that was just…he was just fucking gorgeous. And Roy hoped—with no small amount of desperation—that he was single.

“You better get back to him then,” Roy said, and matched Ed’s smile with one of his own.

He might’ve missed it, if he hadn’t been so thoroughly drinking in every detail of Ed’s gorgeous face. But because he was, Roy noticed the way his eyes widened, the smile slipping a little, and the slightest dusting of red across Ed’s cheeks.

Ed blinked, coughed, and tugged on the end of his braid.

“I’ll…see you then,” he stuttered, and backed out of the bathroom clumsily.

“See you,” Roy said, a little stunned at the sudden departure. What on earth had that been?

Still, after the encounter, Roy felt a little lighter as he headed back to his station, despite the fact that his shirt still stuck to the countertop every time he leaned across it to serve a drink. As the evening wound down, the pub started to quieten, and it was nearing half past ten before Roy had a moment to step away from the bar and approach Ed’s table with two chocolate sundaes. The other boy sitting across from Ed looked surprised, then a little exasperated.

“I don’t think we ordered those. Brother, did you sneak off again and—”

“Al, that was _one_ time, and come on, they had _lava cake_ , and I didn’t see you—”

“I know you didn’t order these; this is on the house,” Roy interrupted quickly, before Ed could derail into what looked like a well-practiced argument. “Complimentary.”

Roy was becoming very familiar with the way that Ed seemed to treat everything with suspicion, even the little almonds sprinkled on top of his ice cream. The same gaze then swung up to look at Roy.

“Free?”

Roy nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Right. And what kind of ‘favour’ do you need this time?” If Roy thought that there was any lingering bitterness in the words, the thought was quickly dispelled by Ed’s wide grin. Apparently ice cream made him far more agreeable.

“Nothing,” Roy said. “I owe you, so this is payment.”

“For what?”

“Giving me another chance.” Roy was _very_ aware of the way that Ed’s brother was watching them closely.

“Yeah, well, you’re—I kinda like this place, wanted to come back,” he muttered. “Didn’t really have a choice.”

“Thank you all the same, Edward.”

The scowl came back, though now it was also accompanied by redness to Ed’s cheeks. “I told you, Ed’s fine.”

Roy decided to pay attention, this time, before he put his foot in his mouth once more. “All right then, Ed it is. Anyway, I should get back to my station. I hope you enjoy your evening, gentlemen.”

“Yeah, I’ll see ya.”

“Thank you for the dessert!”

Roy smiled once more before he turned away, though he still caught the next part of their conversation.

“Favours, brother?” Roy heard Ed’s brother—Al?—murmur as he walked away. “Really, were you that desperate for dessert?”

“Al—what— _no_.”

“You disappear to the bathroom for an extended period of time, and then come back to get ‘payments’ for ‘favours’ and you expect—”

“That’s not what happened, Al!”

Grinning, Roy walked back to the bar to the sound of Ed’s spluttering.


	2. Chapter 2

It was yet another Wednesday night, and Roy was, once again, pining. Just a little. Ed hadn’t shown up since last Wednesday, and Roy found himself…a little bereft. Also feeling a little bit ridiculous—he’d only seen the man twice, and probably for a total of about ten minutes. And there was nothing at _all_ suggesting that he would be back, nothing to say that he wasn’t just someone who passed through twice and never came back.

After all, there were hundreds of such patrons, and who was to say that Ed wouldn’t be just another one of those? Just another person who happened to drop in because the pub was close, or convenient. Maybe in a few months he’d remember and recount the story of some sloppy bartender in some place he’d been once, and laugh a little at their awkward bathroom encounter. And maybe Roy would just remain a face without a person behind it, one that would gradually fade from Ed’s memory into nothing.

…or maybe when Roy looked up from serving another drink at ten minutes to nine, he would find Ed perched in a bar stool, hand on chin and stirring a glass of raspberry lemonade.

He might’ve felt slightly ridiculous for it, but Roy’s heart skipped a beat. Then it might’ve completely stopped when Ed looked up, around a little bit, then caught Roy’s eye.

Both of them froze. Shit, was Roy meant to say something? Approach? Smile and wave seemed to be a good idea, or was that too friendly for someone who he’d only met briefly in front of a line of bathroom sinks?

“—oy, Roy!”

Roy jolted, and turned to see Rebecca pouring venomous green liquid into a glass, with the glare she was shooting him also taking on a similarly deadly appearance. She jerked her head at a couple of customers down the other end of the bar, and it was probably only the presence of witnesses that stopped her from throwing the glass in her hand at his head.

“Oh, sorry. I’ll be right there.” Roy cast one final glance over his shoulder, but Ed wasn’t looking at him any longer, his attentions instead focussed on stabbing the lemon slice in his glass with his straw. Roy tried to tell himself that he wasn’t disappointed.

Thankfully, he managed to serve the next few customers without spilling anything on himself, and when someone slid a bill across the counter and requested “something impressive,” Roy couldn’t resist.

Smirking, Roy gathered his ingredients, lining up bottles on the counter. After a quick glance to make sure he had the customer’s attention, he started.

It was entertainment, pure and simple. A magician’s trick, to have his hands moving smoothly, the drink arcing smoothly between containers, colours and sound with clatter of ice and the splash of liquid. And if there was anything Roy was good at, it was showmanship. Aware of his audience, he sure that the timing was right so that even the dim lights of the bar caught the complicated flourish of his hands, and he focussed hard to make the long-practiced motions appear effortless.

The final flourish had flames flickering across the surface of the finished product, blue liquid bleeding into yellow with fire shifting through the colours of the sky—red to blues to purples.

When the scattered applause came, he bowed slightly before presenting the drink to his customer, pleased to notice that he had also attracted the attention of others in the room.

He wondered if ( _hoped that_ ) Ed was one of them.

(Rebecca rolled her eyes and made a note to tell Riza every embarrassing thing that had happened to him this week.)

A glance Ed’s way revealed that Ed _was_ watching. No, he was more staring, speared lemon slice forgotten. At Roy’s grin and wave (he really couldn’t resist), a red flush stormed up Ed’s face and he looked away hastily, returning to lemon mutilation. Still grinning hugely, Roy had a quick look around to see if there were any waiting customers. Once confirming that it was quiet for now—and that, by extension, he would not get brained by Rebecca—he sauntered over to where Ed was resolutely not looking at him.

“I didn’t expect to see you back here,” Roy said by way of greeting.

Ed glanced up at him, before looking away again. “What, too classy for me?”

Roy snorted; their bar was dimly lit, the cupboards were hell to wrench open, and there was only one table in the whole establishment that didn’t rock unevenly. “Quite the opposite in fact, I would’ve thought that you would have too much class to come back.”

Oh, Ed’s blush was way too endearing for Roy not to want to flirt, at least a little bit more. “Nothing like what you had going on, with all the…” Ed approximated Roy’s drink-mixing process by using his glass to trace a few rapid circles on the table, and Roy laughed at the exaggerated pompous expression he put on. “Talk about classy.”

“It’s just practice.” Roy grinned, and regarded Ed’s now empty glass. “So what does bring you here?”

Ed shrugged. “Only night my classes finish early, so I had a bit of time on my hands.”

“Oh, you’re a student?”

“Yeah, I’m doing immunology just up the road,” Ed said, nodding in a vague direction that Roy presumed was more or less where Ed’s university was located. “Spreadsheets and microscopes and crap mostly.”

“That sounds interesting. What kinds of areas are you looking at right now?”

Ed’s brows winged up in surprised as he chewed on the straw. “You really wanna know?”

It might’ve been a tad eager to say _yes, I want to know everything_ , so Roy settled on nodding instead. “If I got you a drink so you didn’t have to eat that straw, would you do me the favour of sharing?”

Ed rolled his eyes. “There we go, with the ‘favours’ again.” But still, he was smiling. “You getting me something good this time?”

“Of course,” Roy said smoothly. “Coming right up.”

It took but a minute for Roy to whip a drink up, even going to the effort of adding a skewered flower on a toothpick for an extra flourish, though Ed didn’t seem to entirely appreciate it.

“That’s not half as fancy as what you had going before, with the fire and the hula hooping,” he complained, though Roy noticed he sipped with enthusiasm.

With an opening like that, Roy couldn’t resist. He leaned forward, propping his chin on his hand, and smirked a little. “Oh, I didn’t realise you wanted a show as well. _That_ costs slightly more,” he said, voice low.

The effect was instantaneous. Even in the dim lighting, Roy could see the way that Ed’s cheeks went flaming red, and even more telling was the sudden coughing fit that Ed had, spraying the counter top with his drink.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” Roy said, horrified. He’d thought maybe it’d be cute to see the kid blush, but he didn’t want him to _die_ choking on alcohol.

“Christ,” Ed wheezed, rubbing his chest. “You—god, are you like this with _everyone_?”

“No,” Roy said helplessly. “Well, maybe a little, but—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have.” _You’re too damn cute and your face looks like it was sculpted by angels, and I’m not even religious._ That was probably slightly inappropriate though, not to mention terribly, horrendous cheesy. Grabbing some napkins, Roy started mopping up the mess, handing a couple to Ed.

“Least I didn’t get any on my shirt, unlike _some_ people,” Ed muttered.

“That was hardly my fault. But this one might’ve been. I really _am_ sorry.”

Oddly enough, Ed caught Roy’s eye, and then looked away with his cheeks still burning. Sipping at his drink still, he mumbled something.

“Pardon?”

“I said I don’t really mind that much,” Ed mumbled, though this time it was loud enough for Roy to hear. Roy blinked. Did Ed just give him _permission_ to dish out bad pick-up lines?

“Anyway, I got my drink,” Ed hurried on, before Roy could say something. He took another huge slurp of the drink, eyes darting around before they finally settled uncertainly on Roy. “You still up to listening to me talk about uni crap?”

“Of course,” Roy said warmly, deciding to drop the odd moment that just passed. “My shift officially finished five minutes ago, so let me just pull up a chair so I can listen properly.”

Grabbing a chocolate bar for himself, Roy sat down next to Ed, and did just that.

* * *

It was ridiculous, how quickly Ed’s visits had become something to look forward to, something which just seemed to coincide with Wednesdays the way that misery teamed up with Mondays. But his last visit had just been so…easy. Simple, and wonderful, to hear Ed speak about his course and his interests, half of which Roy hadn’t really understood. Then he’d found the untapped well of enthusiasm Ed had for his brother, and they’d moved on to silly things like the preference for guacamole or salsa on nachos (‘ _why don’t you just take both?_ ’), to whether or not the overpriced goods in vending machines was worth not having to take a trip to the supermarket (‘ _what, your old bones can’t handle a walk?’_ ).

And god, Roy just hadn’t had a date in so long, hadn’t been _able_ to enjoy the gradual fall from stranger to friend to something else for such a long while, that having a crush was almost a relief.

But, of course, crushes (internally, Roy cringed; the word was so _teenage_ ) came with those ups and downs and irrational hopes. The following Wednesday had Roy _expecting_ that Ed was going to turn up again, seeing as that had been three Wednesday nights in a row now. Though perhaps Roy should work on lowering those expectations—Ed didn’t owe him anything, after all, least of all a regular time on the schedule.

Still, he couldn’t deny being disappointed. He’d been on the lookout for that little tail of sunshine yellow throughout his shift, hopes flying high as the clock ticked towards eight, then gradually falling, falling, falling.

Then zipping straight back up like one of those crows that periodically perched on their garbage cans did after you stepped out of the restaurant to scare them (or something akin to it) when the door swung open with five minutes until the end of Roy’s shift, and a blonde head bobbed inside.

Luckily, there weren’t too many customers. Even if there had been, Roy would have been hard-pressed _not_ to abandon the bar as he did, going to Ed immediately. Not when, even from a distance, Roy could see that the usual saunter was diminished, hands tucked in the pockets of an oversized varsity jacket, and Ed’s hair gathered in a messy bun at the nape of his neck.

But when Ed saw Roy approaching, something that might’ve been a distant relation to his usual, bold smile appeared.

“Hey,” he said.

Roy had to fight the urge to wrap an arm around Ed’s shoulders once he reached him. “Hello. How are you?”

Ed shrugged. “Could be better. You guys busy today? You got time to be slacking off?”

“Not too busy today, and never too busy to spend time in your company.” And there it was: the slightest shifting of Ed’s feet, the subtle red that snuck across his cheeks, and—most importantly—the way his brows furrowed that Roy recognised by now as being the Ed equivalent of a smile.

“Pretty bad company right now.”

It was all right, wasn’t it, for Roy to reach over and rest his hand on Ed’s shoulder? Friendly, not over-stepping boundaries or anything. Just supportive, and platonic, and not at all flirtatious.

(He hoped it came off that way, anyway, because that was what he was going for.

…god, he really hoped that he wouldn’t chase Ed away.)

“Would you like to tell me about your day?” Roy asked gently, and Ed laughed.

“It was shit,” he said with a wry smile, and god, he shouldn’t look like that. Dark circles and tired lines, the smile seeming like it took every ounce of effort in his small body. “Shit week. But I’m guessing you don’t wanna hear about that.”

Roy couldn’t have Ed presuming that anything he ever said was unimportant. “Of course I do. Will you tell me in exchange for a drink?” Although Ed shook his head, he followed Roy over to the bar.

“That old game again?” With a sigh, Ed rested his chin on the arm he slung over the back of a stool. “Probably shouldn’t. I needa get back, got work to do.”

“Oh. Then what are you doing down here…?”

There it was again. Ed shifted his gaze away from Roy’s, and buried his face in his arm even more, and Roy felt the urge to smooth away all the fatigue that he saw, find some way to retrieve the bright essence of Ed that he’d seen the last couple of times. “Wanted to come down, I guess,” he said with a shrug. “Wanted to see—just needed company.”

He sounded exhausted. Hollowed out and destroyed, like the proverbial train wreck, except that the train in question had been one he’d been hoping to catch, only to find that it’d been delayed, and then cancelled, and then—after hours and hours of waiting—completely derailed. The misery was so thick in Ed’s voice, that Roy couldn’t control his own.

“Two minutes,” he blurted, and Ed startled, looking up at Roy with wide eyes. “I’m off in two minutes.” Well, five, but Rebecca would understand, _surely_? “If you have time, I could take you back to your place? That way you’ll have time to let me know all about your day.” Anything for Ed not to look like that.

Still, Ed hesitated. “I drove. My car’s just a couple of streets down. Couldn’t really get parking much closer.”

“I’ll walk you down,” Roy offered.

“You headed that way?”

“Where’d you put your car?” Ed gestured vaguely, and Roy nodded immediately. “That’s perfect, I’m over that way as well. So how about that drink?”

Still, Ed hesitated, but then Roy raised his eyebrows and plastered the stupidest smile he could muster on his face, and the startled laugh it elicited was like a warm drink on a cold day.

“You don’t give up, do you?” But Ed was grinning. “Gimme a tomato juice then. Probably shouldn’t have anything too crazy tonight.”

Roy made a face. “You’re plenty crazy if you want to be drinking tomato juice,” he said, but still moved to the fridge to grab one of their many, many bottles—it was not something that sold very well. “Just sit tight for another few minutes; I just need to grab my things, then we can go.”

Roy probably set some kind of personal record for how quickly he flung his things into his bag; water bottle, jacket, wallet and keys all flew into his pack, and he was back outside before Ed had even finished his juice. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Ed said, falling in step with Roy as they headed outside.

The night air was cool, and it was cloudy enough that the streets were only lit by the harsh white of street lamps and the occasional passing car. The two of them walked in silence for a while, footsteps echoing against the concrete, tiny sipping noises coming from Ed as he gulped down his drink.

“You still wanna hear about that day?” Ed said abruptly, voice cutting through the silence.

“If you want to share, then yes,” Roy said quietly. He wasn’t going to push, but if Ed needed it, then Roy had to let him know that he wasn’t unwanted.

“It’s pretty shit.”

“I happen to be an expert in that particular area.”

“As in, got that ninety per cent assignment due in two days and the people in my group are a bunch of jackasses, whose brain cells probably have the capacity of half a dead goldfish, and that’s all of them _combined_. That kinda shit.” Ed cast a glance up at Roy, but then his gaze darted back to the ground so he could kick a rock forlornly. “Dumb uni shit.”

“It’s not dumb,” Roy said immediately, gently. “It sounds like you have a lot on your plate.”

“It wouldn’t even _matter_ so much if I just—if stuff just wasn’t so shit.” The rock fell victim to Ed’s booted foot again. “It’s just I need to get this, I need it because the only way I get to stay in my course right now is if I get the grades so I can stay on the fuckin’ scholarship. And it’d be fine if I could just do my own fuckin’ stuff, but these _dickwads_ —” The rock flew several feet to land in the gutter from a particularly forceful kick, and Roy thought perhaps that those particular dickwads’ faces had been substituted in when Ed’s foot had made contact. “—can’t get their fuckin’ act together.”

“Ed, it’s all right, I’m sure you’ll pull through.”

It was heartbreaking and horrible; someone this young, this _brilliant_ , should not have a laugh that hollow. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Ed.” Roy placed his hand on Ed’s shoulder, just the lightest touch so that they could halt their progress. Ed’s face was shadowed when he turned to look up at Roy, a distance streetlight casting odd shapes across his features. “I say this with absolute sincerity,” Roy said quietly. “I…I haven’t known you for very long, but for what it’s worth, from our interactions thus far, you have come across as intelligent, driven, and extremely capable. I’m more than sure that whatever you do, it always ends up being absolutely brilliant, and I don’t think this time will be any different.”

There was a long silence. Ed blinked up at him, and Roy started to become way too conscious of how his hand was still resting lightly on Ed’s shoulder.

 _Then_ he started to wonder—with regret starting to chase at the heels of this thought—if he’d gone too far. Maybe. His dumb, cheesy speeches usually only came in the middle of the night if Riza carted him home after a late one, or when he was particularly sappy with Maes (not that he could _help_ that, Maes just had that effect on people). And maybe dumb, sappy speeches, when coupled with dimly lit streets and people you’d barely known for three weeks, came off as _creepy_ rather than charming, and maybe Roy had—

“What the fuck?”

Yes, he’d definitely screwed it up.

“Who the fuck actually says ‘thus’ these days? You’re more ancient than I thought.”

…or perhaps not.

Roy cleared his throat. “I assure you, I was born within what one might consider to be a more modern era.”

“What one might consider to be a more modern era,” Ed mimicked, but beneath the faint silver of the lamps, Roy thought he saw the beginnings of a grin. “Man, are you for real?”

Roy looked himself up and down, as though inspecting. “Last I knew, yes.”

“Shit.” Ed punched him in the arm, none-too-gently. While Roy rubbed his arm and pouted a bit, Ed continued talking. “You sounded a bit like Al there,” Ed said quietly, and once again he was refusing to look at Roy. Or, well, he was refusing to look at his eyes, at least; Ed had taken a rather keen interest in Roy’s left elbow. “Thanks.” The word was so quiet that Roy almost missed it.

“You’re welcome,” he said, in the same muted tone. There was something…sacred, about this space, this moment with Ed. It was quiet, and although Ed was the one who was baring his soul and divulging his problems, Roy felt vulnerable, as though he was the one being put the test of whether or not he was good enough for this. Good enough for Ed.

“Well, this is my car,” Ed said after a moment, nodding his head in some vague direction. “I…thanks for walking with me. Appreciate it.”

“Any time. Thank you for letting me walk with you.” Roy smiled, and was relieved to see that Ed could do the same.

“Yeah, it was…nice.”

“Take care of yourself, Ed.”

“Yeah, it’s okay. I’ll be all right. Just gotta crack some skulls and shit.”

“Make sure you don’t break any bones on those skulls.”

Ed snorted. “Like I could. Bet you there’s nothing in there anyway.”

Roy laughed. “Either way, take care, and drive safely.”

“Yeah, yeah.” As though remembering something, Ed looked around. “Your car close by?”

“Yeah, just a little bit further down,” Roy said smoothly. “I’ll be fine.”

“All right then.” But Ed still didn’t hop into his car, and Roy almost opened his mouth to ask if there was anything else more, before Ed stuck out his hand. “I’ll…I’ll see you around?”

Oh. Roy blinked at the hand that was offered, then reached out and shook it firmly.

And if he let the touch linger on for a tad longer than one might’ve had it just been purely professional, purely business, well, could you really blame him?

“Yes, I certainly hope so.”

Ed nodded jerkily before reluctantly withdrawing his hand. It took only a brief moment for him to clamber into his car, and then the window was wound down and he was curling his fingers in the most adorable little wave.

“G’night Roy.”

“Good night, Edward.”

Another small smile, then the engine spluttered to life, and Ed pulled away.

Roy watched as the taillights faded in the distance and finally disappeared around the corner. And still he stood a moment longer, just turning thoughts of Ed over in his mind: the firm grip he’d had on Roy’s hand, the way that wisps of hair had been falling artfully from his bun, how his jacket had been just a little too big on his frame.

And each thought lit up another little…something in Roy’s heart.

Sighing at his foolishness (although he wasn’t exactly eager to give it up either; the smile was still resolutely plastered across his face), Roy hitched his bag up further on his shoulder and turned to walk back the way he came.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to everyone who's left a comment or kudos or nice tags or sent me a message about this fic - it seriously makes my day. You're all the loveliest <3

The next time Ed visited, Roy wasn’t there to see him walk in. Instead, he was around the back, next to the bins, cigarette between his lips but unlit.

“Hey.”

Roy turned, surprised, and then relaxed once more when he saw who it was.

“Oh. Hi, Ed.”

Ed’s nose crinkled a little at the smell of the garbage, but he still joined Roy leaning against the wall without comment. The nights were starting to cool down a little, heralding the onset of winter. The cold had the scar across Roy’s stomach aching, and the niggling pain was enough to have him grumpy. The reminder of the reason behind the pain, though, that was what had set off the melancholy…itchiness. This restlessness that crawled beneath Roy’s skin, seeming to stretch and pull at his nerves until it drove him mad. He’d tried to ignore it, and he’d succeeded for the most part. Keeping busy mixing drinks and cleaning glasses had pushed it to a corner of his mind for a while, but Wednesday nights were inevitably quiet.

And for Roy tonight, it had been _too_ quiet.

So he’d gone out for the first proper break he’d taken all day, trying not to crumble in the back alley behind his workplace. Of all nights for Ed to visit, Roy wished that he didn’t have to see him like this. Though maybe it was better, maybe it would finally signal that he shouldn’t be wasting his time on Roy anymore.

Or maybe Ed would continue to be some kind of miracle, and care for some rotten bartender he’d talked to a couple of times.

“Everything all right?”

A few weeks ago, Roy might’ve denied. Nodded his head, pasted on a smile, and said something or other which would have ushered his companion away and back inside.

But the weight was so heavy in his chest, and this was Ed, Ed who’d let himself be beaten and defeated in front of Roy, let himself trust Roy enough to be able to do that. And tonight, Roy’s skin felt like it wanted to crawl right off his being, and the buzzing was so loud that the “no” had escaped his lips before he even realised.

“D’you need anythin’?”

Oh, Roy could not do this. Couldn’t have Ed caring and warm and real, because any more kindness would make him crumble.

“No,” he said shakily. “No, I’m fine. I should get back inside.”

Ed was silent for a moment, but then there was a rustling noise. Looking towards the source of the noise, Roy saw that Ed was holding a paper bag, one that Roy recognised as one of their own takeaway bags.

“The lady, the one with the poofy hair…Rebecca? Said you hadn’t eaten today.” It was phrased more as a question, rather than a statement, and Ed gestured with the bag.

Numb, Roy shook his head.

“Got one of your shitty burgers. You wanna go…I dunno, sit inside, or at the park up the road or something.”

Roy swallowed, gulped down the anxiety, the lump in his throat. “Park sounds good.”

“C’mon then.” Ed grabbed Roy’s wrist, and Roy let himself be led—with feet that _felt_ like lead—back out to the main road and over to the park. They found a bench lit up by the white of a streetlamp, and Ed helped Roy unwrap the burger.

His stomach was protesting already at the smell, churning far too much to want to eat. But some part of him, the bits that sounded far too much like Maes and Riza, knew that he needed to eat.

“Half?” he asked Ed quietly.

“You can’t finish it all?”

“Not hungry. Sorry, just…” Roy let out a breath, unsure how to explain. “Bad day.”

Ed shrugged, and his hesitant smile lifted Roy’s heavy heart. “Guess I can help you out then.”

Silence reigned as they passed the burger back and forth, and when Ed smudged barbeque sauce on his jeans with a muffled, “shit”, Roy laughed and it felt like freedom.

“Y’know,” Ed said, once the meat had been thoroughly finished, and he’d given up on scrubbing to remove the patch of sauce from his thigh. Roy looked over at Ed, whose eyes were tracking a passing woman and her three corgis. “I get that sometimes…you just gotta keep going, because the world doesn’t stop even when stuff’s going to shit. But it’s okay to need other people…like…I’m not gonna think you’re whiny or—shit, I’m bad at this.” There was nothing more endearing than Ed tugging at his braid in frustration. “I know we’ve only been talking for like, I don’t know long but…just, I got you if you need it, okay?”

Blushing furiously, Ed was still looking at everywhere but Roy, which was just as well, because Roy was just staring. Eventually, he did manage to get his voice working.

"Thank you. But you can head back, if you want," Roy said. "Truly, I'm fine. And I can't imagine I'm good company right now."

Ed snorted. "Shut up, idiot. You're fine." Roy wasn't sure if he was meant to feel berated or complimented. Possibly both. "And, like, if I didn't...I'm not hard to work out. If I didn't like your company or shit, I wouldn't keep talking to you. Or coming for your shitty drinks."

Roy didn't quite know what to say, nor what to think about the way that his heart just did a little flip. All he could think was that the red creeping up Ed's ears didn't stop him from looking gorgeous, and that it was also adorable—Roy had to see more.

"So your visits are just to see me?" Roy asked, smirking just a little. It was tired, but it was there. "Why, Edward, I'm flattered."

The red from Ed's ears rapidly expanded across his face, and the way that he turned to splutter at Roy was so endearing that Roy didn't find it quite so hard to smile anymore.

* * *

The next few days passed by with the fog still sitting heavy in Roy’s heart. But the memory of a lukewarm burger and gentle words (accompanied by lots of swearing) was…an anchor. It stopped Roy from drifting out too far, held him in place, but it was also a weight. Heavy because, odd and strange and new though it was, he missed Ed.

Roy paused in his unstacking of the dishwasher, and smiled to himself at the thought of Ed’s reaction to being compared to seafaring equipment.

But the days passed, Wednesday rolled around, and Roy found himself in a familiar position towards the end of his shift, leaning over the counter and providing free food in exchange for conversation.

“So, may I ask why you were you so upset the other night?”

Ed frowned, a more muted version of the usual expression that had Roy believing that maybe Ed was thinking, rather than simply adopting irritation as a reflex, for once. Tonight’s gift sat between them, two cups of chocolate mousse, and now Ed didn’t even think about Roy’s question before he dug in.

“The other night?”

“The first night I saw you,” Roy said.

“Oh. Right.” Ed shoved his spoon into frothy brown, and licked the dessert slowly and—

By all that was pure and holy, _surely_ Ed knew what he did to Roy’s brain when he did that?

“Al broke his leg. Car accident.”

Roy remembered the crutches that Al had had with him the first time Roy had laid eyes on him. “Oh, right. You were worried then?”

Ed snorted. “Understatement of the century. I was fuckin’ terrified. We’d…” He hesitated again, and by now Roy had learnt that hesitation meant that Ed needed space to gather that last bit of courage to push the words past his teeth.

But he always did, and Roy was so, so lucky to be able to have these little parts of Ed, the stories of his childhood, the embarrassment, the pain, and he hoped beyond all reason that Ed would continue to think him worthy of it all.

“He got run over by a motorbike when he was twelve. We’d been walking to school, and I crossed the road without looking, and…shit, Roy, kids are _tiny_ when they’re twelve. He didn’t wake up for weeks.” Ed’s deep sigh had his bangs fluttering a little. “Just…freaked me the fuck out when it happened again.”

“Sounds perfectly reasonable.”

Ed squinted at Roy suspiciously. “Well, he only broke his leg, it wasn’t that big of a deal…”

Roy shrugged, ignoring Ed’s protest when he fetched another spoon and stole some of Ed’s mousse. “Emotions can’t always be rational. You weren’t to know that it was only going to be a broken leg, and it’s completely justified in the face of a prior experience.”

There was no reply for a moment, before Ed muttered something which sounded like, “that’s _my_ mousse, you bastard.” The sullen muttering continued for another moment, and Roy thought that the conversation had moved on, when Ed spoke.

“I’m sorry if I was a bit of a jerk that night.”

Roy smiled. “None of it was your fault; if anything, it was me. You don’t have to apologise.”

“It kinda was me. Though also kinda you. So I pissed myself laughing when you spilled the drink on yourself when I saw you that next time, but then I felt a bit guilty about it.”

Remembering the incident, Roy groaned. “Please don’t remind me. I haven’t made that mistake since I first started out.”

But if Roy had learnt anything over the past few weeks’ acquaintance with Ed, it was that discouragement was more often than not encouragement, especially where Roy’s dignity was involved.

“It was great,” Ed said with a grin. “Your stupid face when it went everywhere was priceless.” There was a smudge of chocolate mousse on Ed’s mouth, unnoticed by Ed, but very, _very_ noticed by Roy. He tapped the corner of his own mouth as an indicator to Ed—which turned out to be a mistake, because Ed made a tiny grunting sound and his tongue darted out to lick around his lip.

 _No,_ Roy thought, horrified. _Don’t think about his tongue_.

“But yeah, like I said, felt a bit guilty, so tried to find you to see if you were still alive or you’d managed to flush yourself down the toilet or something shit.”

Roy had been so focussed on Ed’s mouth, rather than the sounds that came out of it, that initially the only words that registered were ‘toilet’ and ‘shit’. That was usually a cue for laughter, so Roy laughed, even as his brain tried to desperately piece together what Ed had been saying. It took a moment for Roy to remember, but thankfully the mousse was now gone from Ed’s mouth and Roy could focus again (at least slightly, Ed always seemed to occupy Roy’s brain capacity in unfair proportions).

“I promise you, I’m not _that_ bad, just…” Roy had been smiling, but then it slipped from his face as he realised something.

Ed had tried to find him, which meant that he had to have been watching to see where he went. The bathroom meeting hadn’t been a chance encounter.

“Wait, you…went looking for me?”

The surprised expression on Ed’s face was _comical_ , especially when it morphed into betrayal and what looked like disgust at what he’d just allowed himself to say. Then he turned red as the tomato juice he was so fond of.

“Well—no—that’s not—I just _wondered where_ —stop laughing you bastard!”

Even the strawberry stalk that was launched at Roy didn’t stop him though. “Have you been coming in just to see me, Ed?” Roy teased.

The most frustrated noise seemed to come from Ed’s direction. “I just—you when good-looking bartenders pay attention to you, you kinda notice,” he snarled.

Roy’s heart did a little flip in his chest at the compliment, and the warmth that rushed through him spread like wildfire and had a grin lighting up his face. “Oh, I’m a ‘good-looking’ bartender now, am I?” he asked, smirking.

Ed _squirmed_ , glaring at Roy. “Fuckin’ bastard, of _course_ , I mean, have you looked at yourself? And you’re nice and shit, so you’re fuckin’—”

Then he stopped abruptly, and his eyes widened before they slid away from Roy’s own, leaving Roy desperate to know the end of that sentence. And Ed’s cheeks were pinking up so adorably that Roy couldn’t resist teasing a little more.

“Please do finish what you were saying, Edward,” Roy purred.

And as soon as those eyes—fierce and defiant—whipped back up to meet his, Roy knew it had been the wrong approach.

“Forget I said that,” Ed muttered, before Roy even had an apology out. He withdrew his hand from the counter top, his shoulders hunching over as he stared resolutely at the floor, physically closing himself off where Roy wanted the exact opposite; he _needed_ to coax out that openness again.

“Ed, I—whatever it is, it’s fine, I’m not going to la—”

“Roy, just forget it,” Ed snapped.

Roy’s hand moved instinctively to smooth away the frown. “Ed—”

But Ed was clambering off his stool, shrugging his jacket back on. “Gotta go. I’ll see you later.”

The warmth was gone now, and Roy was now utterly, utterly cold. “Wait, Ed—”

But Ed was already out the door, and Roy was left with two empty mousse glasses, and words caught on his tongue.

_What?_

And it suddenly hit Roy that, all this time, the red across Ed’s cheeks might not have been anger after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah, good one Roy


	4. Chapter 4

“ _Just do it. Go for it._ ”

But the more he thought about it, the more the nerves seemed to snowball.

“I don’t know, Maes,” Roy sighed, phone pressed to his ear. “I’m really not sure.”

Maes snorted. “ _Sounds like you are, but you just want me to kick your ass to do it_.”

“…maybe. I just don’t know if it’s…appropriate. Or at all clever.”

“ _But Roy, is it romantic and cheesy and sappy, just like you?_ ”

Roy frowned at the note in his hands, and the words which he’d been agonising over for hours. “Yes,” he admitted with a sigh. “Very much so.”

“ _Then it’ll be perfect!_ ”

“Maes, that’s not the best—”

“ _Roy_.” Maes’s voice was still cheerful, but now it was firm. “ _You like the guy. Looks like the guy likes you. You gotta start living at some point, buddy._ ”

“He stormed off as soon as he realised what he’d said,” Roy said, the doubt gnawing once more. “That doesn’t—maybe he’s not meant to, hell, maybe he already has someone. And,” he rushed on, before Maes could interrupt. “Even if he doesn’t, even if he’s as single, what if it all fucks up because that’s what I _do_?”

The sigh that crackled over the phone line was a _tad_ exaggerated. “ _First of all, that isn’t what you do, and second of all, deal with it when you get to that point. Don’t know until you try. Gotta be in it to win it. One day, one of these first dates will be the your last first date_.”

Roy snorted. “Maes, that barely makes any sense.”

“ _Stop stalling, and go get the boy._ ”

The boy in question, Roy had learnt, was liable to bite off his ankles if Roy ever did something as scandalous as present him with milk.

And Maes wondered why he was terrified.

Though, if Roy really thought about it, that was the point. For some reason or another, Ed made Roy…brave. Gave him courage in the golden shine of his eyes, made life brighter with the wicked tilt of his grin. He was clever, he was hilarious even when he had no intention of being so, and even in the short time that Roy had known him, he’d seen that the heart that Ed wore pinned to his sleeve was huge and generous and kind.

Maybe that was worth taking a chance for.

“All right.” Before he could change his mind, Roy tucked the note he’d written into his wallet, and grabbed his work bag. “Wish me luck.”

“ _Go get him_.”

* * *

Okay, maybe it hadn’t been a great idea. The longer the minutes dragged on as Roy waited, the more he thought that the words he’d scrawled across the blue piece of card—embossed, no less—were over the top, too far, too romantic for someone who had all but sprinted away when he had let slip a hint of any attraction to Roy.

And what if Ed didn’t turn up tonight? It was Wednesday, which meant that Ed finished classes fairly early and had a late start tomorrow, which meant that he _usually_ came down to the pub. But what if he didn’t tonight? What if he’d decided that it had been too much, that their last encounter had been the final straw and that it was time for everyone to just get on with their lives?

It was looking like that was more and more likely, when Roy checked his phone to see a 9:37 blaring up at him, taunting him. Ed usually finished at five, and it took him twenty minutes to get home. He’d study for an hour or two, have dinner with Al, study some more, take a ten minute drive down to the pub, and—

—latest, absolute _latest_ he would arrive would be nine o’clock.

Roy tried to tell himself it meant nothing, tried to push it from his mind. Ed didn’t owe him anything. Anything could’ve happened. Another project ( _he said that he was done until exams came around_ ), his car broke down ( _why didn’t he borrow his brother’s?_ ) or— _anything_ could’ve happened, and now Roy’s thoughts turned down an awful path involving accidents or illness, but he had to push it _out_.

But it was easier said than done. Ed had been on his mind since they’d met, but now he was in…everything. When Roy served a raspberry lemonade, he thought of chewed up straws and of Ed blowing bubbles. When he mixed another cocktail and lit it up with a flourish, he couldn’t forget the way that Ed’s eyes had been on him, wide with wonder, those weeks ago.

Roy was a _wreck_ by the time the clock had ticked over to half past ten, and still no sign of Ed. The little card he had in his pocket seemed to weigh like that horrible, metaphorical anchor making a return. The bowl of onion rings he’d prepared—Ed had mentioned liking them—had gone cold.

Something soft hit the side of Roy’s head, and he whirled around. Roy’s heart leapt—

And crashed right back down. Turned out that what had collided with his head was a tea towel, and the person who had thrown it hadn’t been Ed, though the glare that Rebecca had on her face could almost rival one of Ed’s.

“You done spacing out yet?”

Roy bent to retrieve the towel, and took it as an excuse to wipe down the counter again. “What do you mean?”

Though Roy didn’t see it, Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Roy, your shift ended half an hour ago. Go home.”

“There are still some things I can get ready for tomorrow, you know that I’m fine with staying a little bit—”

“I don’t think he’s gonna show tonight, Roy.”

Roy looked over at her casually, even though her words had his stomach twisting. “Who?”

“Edward,” said Rebecca, dragging the syllables out. “Remember him? Don’t think you would’ve forgotten, not with the way you’ve been hanging out with him every chance you get.”

Christ, had he been that obvious? “He’s been busy lately, he works hard. Probably has a lot of studying to do.”

Gently, Rebecca plucked the tea towel from Roy’s hands. “And if he does, then chances are he probably won’t rock up at a pub then, especially when he knows that you get off at ten,” she said, brisk but not harsh. “Go home, Roy. You’ve been procrastinating. No, don’t say you haven’t,” she said when he opened his mouth to interrupt. “You’ve wiped down this counter six times already. It’s cleaner than it’s ever been in its pathetic life.”

If there was anything that was pathetic, it was Roy Mustang, and the way that his eyes were still trained on the door.

The words were sitting there, on the tip of his tongue. _I just thought he’d be here_.

But Roy just sighed and started to gather up his things.

“Good night, Rebecca.”

He went home.

* * *

Waking on Thursday was miserable. The weather decided to mock him, though, giving him a clear day with bright sunshine, and just one or two perfect little clouds in the sky. The weight of last night still remained, the thousand questions still unanswered—why hadn’t Ed shown up, had Roy done something wrong, had something horrible happened?

Dragging himself to work was a chore. But then he got into the rhythm of setting up—dragging chairs down from the table, bringing out stock from the back, and then came the gradual trickle of customers. It was only a trickle—they were a pub, after all, and their customers generally only ever wanted coffee in the mornings. But the university was close enough that the student population gave them enough business to justify opening, and Roy pounced on every one that walked through, desperate for a distraction.

It was kind of funny (not in a hilarious way, more just an odd, why would you do that universe kind of way) that the day that Roy didn’t have stupidly high expectations of Ed coming in would be the day that Ed walked through the door. It was also a little funny that it was the fact that Roy was so resolutely _not_ pre-occupied with thoughts of Ed that he actually missed seeing him walk in.

But then Roy took an order, and in lifting his head up to rattle off the total, there he was. Hands in pockets, braid hung over his shoulder, and smiling sheepishly.

Roy wondered if his heart would ever stop doing that skip thing whenever he saw that particular shade of blonde and that crooked smile.

His automatic reaction was to drop everything and vault over the bar, but—wait, he still had a takeaway cup in one hand and a marker poised to write down the order in another, and he couldn’t just—but—

Roy looked over at Ed helplessly as he approached the bar, at an utter loss for what to do.

“Here,” Rebecca muttered, snatching the items from Roy’s hands. “Go ahead, I’ll take care of this.”

Roy swallowed. “Thanks.”

Then he was face to face with Ed once again, and his heart was pounding.

“Hi.” Wordsmith. Absolute wordsmith.

Turned out that Ed was similarly talkative this morning. “Hey.” Ed fiddled with the end of his braid, eyes darting up to meet Roy’s, then sliding away again.

Roy breathed deep, in a desperate attempt to still his racing heart, trying to figure out what to say. “I missed you last night,” he said eventually, softly. The words had been chosen carefully, and from the way Ed looked back up at him, eyes wide, their meaning hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“Yeah, I’m…” Ed swallowed. “I’m sorry about that. I know Wednesdays are kinda…our thing, and I’m sorry for flaking. Just…you’ve been _really_ good to me, with all the free food and shit, but I didn’t know if you were just being friendly or…” Ed smiled ruefully. “Al yelled at me last night for not coming so…here I am.”

Roy’s brain still hadn’t quite caught up yet. “Don’t you have class today?” he asked, still confused. He had to do something. He had formulated such a perfect plan, and he was desperately trying to remember if anyone had made onion rings that morning, thank god the little card was still tucked into the pocket of his pants—

“Nah, I start late,” Ed said.

“Oh. Right.” God, Roy, _do something_.

“Yeah,” Ed said, and he swallowed, eyes searching Roy’s. And Roy wanted to give him _something_ to find, he did, but his mind was still rapidly backpedalling and jumping between elation and nervousness at such high speed that all he could do was stare blankly. Then Ed’s cheeks started to redden, and his eyes dropped from Roy’s.

Then he started to _back_ away, and no, no, no, he wasn’t meant to do that. Fuck, Roy had fucked it up, just as he’d known he would, he was meant to say some grand, sweeping, romantic thing, not stare like a love-struck fool.

“Sorry, I—I shouldn’t have come, you’re busy,” Ed muttered, and the frown was back and his cheeks were flaming now. “Just wanted to…about the other night, I’m sorry if I made stuff weird, we can just forget about—”

Forget? Roy didn’t want to forget _anything_ involving Ed. But he’d been talking himself up and down and in circles all night, trying to figure this entire mess out, that now that the moment was here he was still desperately trying to catch up. He had the card in his pocket, all he needed was—

“Onion rings,” he said, and Ed looked even more confused. “You said you like onion rings?” Ed nodded mutely, staring, and Roy nodded right back, though his one was a great deal more frantic. “Just—just wait here, all right? Don’t move. I’ll be back.” Almost tripping over his feet, he stumbled back into the kitchen, and spotted Rebecca.

“Onion rings,” he said desperately, and Roy was starting to get used to that alarmed expression when he used that particular combination of words. “Did you—have we got any yet?” The reality was finally starting to sink in, that Ed was out there, that Ed was waiting for him; he had to get this _right_.

Or as right as you could possibly get when your preferred method of flirting came in the form of a bowl of onion rings being shoved into your hands by your exasperated co-worker and an absolute loss of dignity.

Almost dropping the bowl in his haste, Roy hurried back out, and sighed with relief to see that Ed was still there. As soon as he spotted Roy, though, he started talking.

“Roy, I’m—I’m sorry, so just—”

Before Ed could go any further, Roy all but dropped the bowl on the table. “For you,” he said, slightly breathless.

Ed blinked. “I’ve already eaten.”

Roy smiled, and it was reflex by now, because seeing Ed made him happy like nothing else did. Now that there was actually some _chance_ , Roy couldn’t stop grinning.

“On the house,” he said, and retrieved his little note from his pocket, placing it next to the food.

Ed looked at him in confusion, but there was also a shaky smile as he recognised their game. “Oh yeah? And what do I have to give you this time?”

Saying nothing, Roy merely nodded at the note. His palms were clammy and heart racing as Ed picked it up, flipped it open, and scanned it.

And not for the first time, Ed’s grin made Roy’s world immeasurably brighter. Although this time it wasn’t just the mere fact that Roy had managed to make Ed happy, but that Roy would keep getting the opportunity to make Ed happy, and that? That made Roy the luckiest man in the world. At Ed’s smile, Roy felt all the tension drain from his body because it meant that there was a chance, that his hope had, for once, been rewarded.

Still grinning, Ed grabbed a handful of onion rings and shoved them in his mouth, chewing furiously as though afraid they might somehow escape his digestive processes. Through it all, his eyes never left Roy’s, and it was actually quite terrifying to watch the speed at which Ed decimated the food.

“I take it you accept then?”

The only warning Roy had was Ed swallowing in record time, and a brief flicker of golden eyes down to Roy’s lips. Next thing he knew, Ed had leaned across the bar, and his lips were sealed over Roy’s.

It was clumsy and uncomfortable with the bar between them, and tasted overwhelmingly of onions, but it felt so _right_ that Roy immediately decided it was the Best Kiss of His Life, clumsiness and onionness be damned.

When they drew back, both of them were panting, and Roy ignored the snickers of passing co-workers.

“What time are you done tonight?” Ed asked, grinning hugely.

Roy licked his lips, tasting salt and onions. “Nine.”

“I can swing by after class, I got time. Can I go home with you?” Ed’s eyes widened, and his ears pinked up adorably. “Not—I didn’t mean it like—like just like, shit, drive you home, or you can drive me, or something—”

Roy couldn’t resist leaning over the bar to land a peck on Ed’s nose, laughing. “Of course. I’ll see you after then?”

Ed’s cheeks were now flaming, the embarrassment of his runaway mouth now compounded by the kiss. “Yeah. I’ll be waiting.”

Roy smiled. “I’m glad,” he said, and he was. The night—and the days—ahead seemed that much brighter, now that he had Ed waiting for him.

The smiling like an idiot thing seemed to be infectious, because Ed’s grin was huge and unrelenting. “So, er, about the…” He gestured at the note that he’d left on the table. “When?”

Roy trailed his fingers lightly over Ed’s, settling his hand there. “How does Wednesday sound?”

“Fuckin’ awesome.” Ed grinned, and swiped up the little card to tuck it in his wallet. “I gotta run now, but…I’ll see you after you’re done then?”

On top of the world, Roy lifted a hand to blow Ed a kiss, knowing that Ed would turn that adorable shade of red.

“Sounds perfect.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo originally I had planned for this fic to end at the last chapter - but people seemed to be enjoying it, so here, have a bonus first date. But because I hadn't planned for this, I haven't gotten all of it written, and uni is starting to get a little intense to updates will be sporadic. But I'll try to have it done within the next couple of months! Hopefully! There is a super cute epilogue just waiting to be posted, so I gotta get there!
> 
> ALSO CHECK OUT THIS SUPER RAD ART OF [BARTENDER ROY](http://jujubee2522.tumblr.com/post/143411458996/drawing-these-boys-in-dapper-clothes-makes-me).

Wednesday night. Roy had begged for the night off. Well not really—once it had gotten around that _Roy_ had a _date_ , there’d been an almost violent influx of volunteers to take his shift. It was…sweet, if slightly embarrassing, that there’d been such enthusiasm from his colleagues and friends at the prospect. It was nice of them, though he hadn’t realised that they’d been quite so invested in his love life.

Although to be fair, they had known him before the war, when he had worked at the pub for that single year between college and enlisting, and he _had_ been a notorious flirt. But his time away had…dulled things. Dulled life in general, and getting back to some semblance of normalcy had been tiring enough without worrying about trying to navigate how someone else’s emotions would have to slot around the mess of Roy’s own. Being at work had helped, and when Ed had appeared—well, it had put a polish on the thought of a relationship again.

But before that, it wouldn’t have been hard to notice—for those that knew him—that he had been conspicuously low-key since he’d come back, even if he had only been back at work a few weeks before he had first seen Ed.

“We were worried!” Rebecca had complained when Roy had registered his surprise at the uncharacteristic willingness of his friends to take a shift. “I mean, yeah, was only ‘bout two week before blondie showed up, but you used to barely get through a shift without a wink or two. So it’s fine. You enjoy your date.” That final syllable had been dragged out in a ridiculous sing-song, and Roy had rolled his eyes. “We’ll call Miles in, as long as you fill us in on _every_ detail after, yeah?”

So here he was, freshly showered, standing in his room with nerves flitting around his stomach. Except now he was wondering if it wasn’t better that he had gone to work, and met Ed after. Sure, he’d probably smell of beer and cheap grease, but at least he wouldn’t have to think about _what to wear_.

His phone pinged, and grabbed it, hoping for salvation, perhaps a guiding light, a radiant—no such luck.

_Hayate says green_

His fingers flew furiously across the keypad before he chucked his phone back onto his bed with a groan.

_You asked your dog????????_

Frustrated, Roy went to yank at his hair—before remembering that it had, miraculously, not managed to look like a disaster today so he _couldn’t do that_. Instead, he settled on glaring at the two sweaters lying innocently on top of his bed: one blue, one green, and infuriatingly difficult to choose between.

Fifteen minutes. He had just shy of fifteen minutes before he’d have to be out the door, and he still needed to fuel the car and maybe pick up some flowers to give to Ed later. He could see it, had daydreamed about it constantly for a week: walking Ed up to his apartment, maybe being able to hold his hand (oh, wouldn’t that be just _wonderful_?) before giving Ed the bouquet. Then his—date?—would blush that adorable little blush, have that dusting of red across his cheeks. And maybe Roy would earn himself a good night kiss.

Sure, they had kissed already, that morning in the pub, and the same evening when Ed had dropped by after class and Roy had driven him home, and they’d ended up having a very… _passionate_ , if slightly uncomfortable, goodbye leaning over the gear-stick of Roy’s car. It had been marvellous, and Roy certainly wanted more.

But he also wanted to feel Ed’s hand in his—properly, not just the tentative, spur-of-the-moment laying of his hand over Ed’s the other day in the pub. There were just so many things to discover, and Roy wondered how those gorgeous shoulders would feel with his arm wrapped around them, how it might be to _hold_ him, pressed up close with his head tucked in against Roy’s neck, that ridiculous flick of hair tickling at Roy’s nose—

His phone pinged again.

_You asked for an opinion. You did not specify whose._

Roy rolled his eyes, then devolved into further panic when he saw time on his phone screen. Ten minutes left, and he still hadn’t chosen the god damn, cursed sweater.

_Right right I’m wrong. I need to run now, I’ll talk to you later._

_Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do_

Roy smirked.

_You KNOW I wouldn’t be me if I listened to you_

He could almost hear Riza’s sigh in his head when the next message came back.

_I can still hope. Good luck, and enjoy your night._

_Thanks_.

The phone went in his pocket, and he nabbed his keys and his wallet before turning back to the quandary still laid out on his bed.

 _Hayate says green_.

Well, that was as good a decision-making process as any. On went the green sweater, and Roy was out the door.

* * *

Okay, so that had not gone entirely as he had planned. Turned out that ten minutes was in fact _not_ enough time to fuel his car ( _why_ everyone decided they needed petrol on a Wednesday night was beyond him), grab flowers, and get to the restaurant. Unfortunately, he hadn’t factored in the time that it would take for him to pick the flowers, that he would agonise over the right combination of colours, shapes, how _many_ of said colours and shapes, and then have a brief moment of soul-crushing doubt as to whether or not Ed would _like_ flowers in the first place.

And now, of course, he couldn’t find a parking space. Which again, was ludicrous, because who even went out on a Wednesday night? Never mind the fact that Roy himself was out—that was beside the point. Three rounds of the parking lot had not revealed a space, and by the time Roy circled around for the fourth time, he was shooting a series of desperate texts to Ed’s number, newly added as a contact.

_I am so sorry, parking is a nightmare right now. I’ll be there soon!_

The phone was dropped back onto the passenger seat and Roy continued his hunt, tapping his fingers on the wheel impatiently. His text tone went off just as he spotted someone leaving— _finally_ —and he almost clipped the car next to him in his haste as he performed a very rough parking manoeuvre. Killing the ignition, he slammed out of his car and hurriedly strode away—before realising that he’d left his phone in his car, and went back with a groan.

After he was _sure_ he had everything (phone, wallet, keys, breath mints in case he was lucky enough to get that good night kiss), he darted out of the parking lot onto the busy street, the chill of the night air stinging his cheeks. Wrapping his coat more tightly around him, he set off at a brisk pace, phone in hand.

One message from Edward Elric.

_No worries. Though if you’re not here soon, I’m gonna just go in, order for both of us, and eat your share too. And you’ll be paying._

And then followed a string of burger emojis and dollar signs.

Roy was halfway through tapping out a reply when he realised that he was smiling like an idiot at his phone; he very quickly decided he didn’t mind at all.

_I will do my best to be there as soon as possible then, although your presence is quite the motivator in itself._

Roy waited impatiently for the light to change.

Buzz.

_Stop that._

_Or what?_

The little green man appeared, and Roy hurried along once more. He was nearing the restaurant now, and he peered through the crowd milling in front of him, trying to spot that familiar shade of blonde, wondering a little what Ed would be wearing and—

And there he was, and Roy couldn’t help the way that his face split into a smile.

He was leaning against the wall of the building, hair spilling a radiant gold that shone against the dark blue of his long coat, slate grey pants beneath it all, and Roy felt his heart flutter a little at the sight. Ed had his nose buried (adorably) in the white scarf wound around his neck, hands tucked in his pockets as he scanned the crowd as well. Even as Roy approached, Ed took out his phone, and rolled his eyes once he read the message.

“Ed!”

Ed looked up. Ed scowled.

Roy had a bit of a crush.

“Or I’ll eat all your food, _and_ I’ll order, like, ten desserts and take them home,” Ed said, waving the phone at Roy. “And you’ll still be paying.”

Roy stopped in front of Ed, grin still plastered on his face, and considered the statement for a moment. “Still worth it,” he decided.

Ed rolled his eyes, but Roy didn’t miss the way his ears were going red. “Or maybe I’ll just dump your ass.”

“Well, that’s rather rude, for a first date.”

“You’re ‘rather rude’,” Ed mimicked.

“Isn’t it a moot point anyway? I’m here now.”

Ed shrugged, and shoved the phone back in his pocket. “I guess.” But then he looked up at Roy, and maybe Roy’s silly grin was catching, because the scowl softened (just a touch) and Ed’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “Hi.”

There were so many things Roy wanted to do: pull Ed into a hug, get to brush his lips over Ed’s forehead, put an arm around his shoulders, _hold his hand_. But he still wasn’t quite sure what levels of touching were appropriate as of yet, so he just settled on bumping his shoulder gently against Ed’s. “Hi. Shall we go inside?”

“That’s the plan.”

One of the better ones he’d had, Roy thought, still amazed that he got to walk side by side with Ed, watching the way his ponytail swung to and fro as they made their way inside.

The restaurant was busy, most of the tables being occupied, and people milling around the entrance as they were shown inside or waited to pay, wrapping up against the chill they were about to encounter. But it was warm, and alive, so Roy didn’t mind too much. Especially not when it meant he was pressed up next to Ed as they tucked themselves against a wall in following the directions of the ‘ _Please Wait To Be Seated_ ’ sign. And _especially_ not when it meant he could rest his fingers lightly on the small of Ed’s back under the pretence of guiding him away from a particularly irate looking man in a beanie.

Then Ed leaned against him—just slightly, a little hesitant.

No, Roy really couldn’t complain.

“How were your classes today?” he asked, slowly moving his hand from Ed’s back to rest gently on his waist instead, pulling him closer.

Ed shrugged, and leaned into him a little more. “All right. I think my professor likes me. Said if I kept my shit up, she could get me on her research team for next year.”

“Oh? That sounds like it’ll be good for you.”

Ed snorted. “Yeah, probably, if she doesn’t end up killing me. Izumi is _intense_.”

“I’m sure you’ll be more than fine.” Then they were shuffled up to the counter, and Roy lamented that he had to relinquish the warmth of Ed pressed up against him.

“I’ve got a booking for Roy,” he told the waiter, who enthusiastically ticked his name off from the list, before leading them through the sea of white tablecloths adorned with candles, to a setting for two, tucked away in the corner with a view overlooking the river.

After seating themselves, jackets slung over chairs and scarves bundled up, the waiter returned to reel off the specials. A polite nod of thanks had him scurrying off again, and finally Roy had Ed to himself, the low lights glowing off tan skin and the shine of his hair luminous against the snug red shirt he’d revealed once he’d taken off his jacket. A candle flickered between them (and Roy thanked whoever had thought of the idea a thousand times over), firelight playing with the shadows across Ed’s face, lighting up the gold of his eyes.

“You look wonderful tonight,” he said, and ah, there was that adorable way Ed bit his lip to fight off an embarrassed smile.

“Eh, it was Al,” Ed said, looking down to frown at his shirt, one hand idly fiddling with the salt shaker. “He’s been cooped up a lot because of the leg, so as soon as I say I need help with something, he’s all over it.”

“I’m glad; the red suits you.” It really did, bringing out the luscious gold of his hair, wound up in a high ponytail with some stray strands settling over Ed’s shoulders. And more than that it was just…vibrant, and alive, and just so _Ed_.

Although perhaps Roy was just absolutely smitten (and far too happy about it), because he found himself wondering what Ed would look like in other colours, how deep blue would sit against that tanned skin, how he would look in black and white, luminous and bright.

…how he might look underneath it all.

(Roy promptly performed a brief ritual sacrifice of his soul for entertaining that thought.)

Though it wasn’t just all that—although Ed was undeniably _gorgeous_ —which had Roy feeling the slight flutter in his heart every time Ed caught his eye, which had the butterflies zipping around in storms whenever he made Ed laugh.

It was the laugh itself, the unguarded way in which Ed would snort when reluctantly amused, how it would burst out, bright and alive, when Roy did something stupid. It was how he spoke about his brother, how—even in only the brief moment when Roy had seen them together—he could see how much love there was between the two, how Ed smiled so delightedly around Al (and oh, how much Roy wanted to be worthy of that smile, of that _trust_ ). It was the horrendous jokes and the unimpressed glares when Roy made a _particular_ bad pun, it was the little badge with the bright green test tube attached to his backpack, it was how unapologetically he loved his tomato juice.

It was a promise of patience and understanding given in the form of a cold burger shared on a park bench.

All of which had Roy wanting, so desperately, to will himself to just reach over and settle his hand on top of Ed’s, whose fingers had now stilled from their toying with the salt shaker, and now lay so harmlessly on the table.

 _Just do it_. He’d done it just a week ago, after that first, extremely public kiss in the pub, so why couldn’t he do it now? Roy felt _ridiculous_ in his agonising, because if anything, he’d gotten even more nervous, more terrified now that he actually had Ed with him. Before, it had been something to entertain, a little daydream that had wrapped itself around Roy’s heart. Now, it had actually entrenched itself there, still lovely, still light, but so terrifyingly real in how removing it—removing Ed—would very well take Roy’s heart along with it.

So Roy, for the first time in what felt like an age, really, desperately did not want to mess this up.

Ed bit his lip once more, cocked his head as he scrutinised Roy. “Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Roy’s heart did the little flip thing again. “I wish I had an Al, with how long it took me to decide what to wear,” he said, instead of _thank god, at least my fashion passed muster_.

Ed cocked an eyebrow. “You? Indecisive?”

“I’m only human, Edward.”

Ed laughed. “What, nervous?”

He might’ve denied, if it had been anyone else. Cover it up with something smooth, and slick. But this was Ed; Ed with his open vulnerability, Ed and the way he took the world head on and demanded nothing but honesty from it. So Roy simply said, “yes.”

Ed blinked. “Oh.” He blinked again. “Well…that makes it better, ‘cause I felt like my stomach was just gonna give up on me for most of today.”

“Well, I’m glad it didn’t; we do have dinner to look forward to.”

“Yeah, well, that’s probably half the reason it didn’t—free food.” Then Ed looked at himself, then the green of Roy’s sweater, and frowned. “Y’know, we look like Christmas.”

Roy laughed and Ed smiled wryly in response. With that, with the quirk of Ed’s lips—beautiful in its innocence, in how _real_ it all was—Roy finally found the courage to reach across the table and tuck Ed’s hand in his own.

“I suppose we do,” he agreed. “And you’re the best present I’ve ever received.”

And the way that Ed blushed and squeezed his hand back was a bright, beautiful ribbon on top of it all.

* * *

 

Roy hoped that he would one day be worthy of the way that Ed’s eyes were glittering right now as the waiter set down their final dishes for the night.

“Holy shit.” Ed’s face was so _delighted_ as he violently stabbed the lava cake that Roy couldn’t help but grin. “Holy shit,” Ed repeated, promptly sticking the spoon in his mouth and grinning madly. “This is the fuckin’ _best_.”

“Indeed,” Roy agreed, once he’d scooped out some chocolate cake for himself, and it _was_ melt-in-your-mouth delicious.

“Best fuckin’ dessert,” Ed continued. “I just…it’s dumb, but just look at that _go_ , Roy,” he said, gesturing excitedly with his spoon as the amorphous, gooey centre gradually trickled its way out of his mud-cake prison. “Whoever made this shit up had the best fuckin’ idea.”

 _No_ , Roy wanted to protest. The best fucking idea was whoever had introduced Ed to lava cake—Roy wanted to thank them a thousand times over for letting him have the gift of being able to see Ed _bounce_ in his seat over something as simple as a stream of sugar and chocolate ooze from a dessert.

“If I’d known that lava cake would make you so happy, I would’ve offered it far earlier,” Roy said, grinning. Ed waved his hand, mumbling something around the mass in his mouth, and Roy chuckled. “I beg your pardon?”

Ed chewed thoroughly for another moment before he swallowed. “Said, nah, you gave me tomato juice. Hardly anyone stocks that shit.”

“Well, for good reason.”

Ed’s glare was significantly weakened by how he continued to shovel cake in his mouth. “Y’know, normally I might be pissed because tomato juice is fuckin’ _rad_ , okay, but I’m not even mad right now.”

Roy’s mouth quirked. “That’s new.”

“ _No one_ can complain when there’s fuckin’ lava cake.”

Roy certainly wasn’t complaining about how Ed’s tongue chased chocolate good off his spoon. “No, one really can’t,” he murmured, more than a little mesmerised at the gentle licks, how Ed’s tongue flickered over his lip in a dash of pink.

And when Roy caught Ed’s eye, the glimmer in that gold told Roy that Ed knew _exactly_ what he was doing. As much as he enjoyed Ed’s devil-may-care grin (although the faint blush across his cheeks was just _adorable_ ), Roy knew that he needed a distraction, else he was liable to dive across the table have his tongue in Ed’s mouth, taste the chocolate sweet on his warm breath and hear those irresistible little pleasure noises that Roy had discovered tickled Ed’s throat when he kissed him _just_ so—

“So why immunology?” Roy asked hurriedly, clearing his throat. There must’ve been chocolate lodged in there, or something along those lines. “Any particular reason for the study? Or just because it’s there?”

Ed paused, his eyes glued to the dessert in front of him. He was still licking the damn spoon, although now it appeared to be more contemplation than seduction.

“Yeah,” he said eventually. “There is. A reason, I mean.”

Roy—being _quite_ full enough—decided to leave the rest to Ed, and set down his spoon. “Go on.”

Ed shrugged, and shovelled more cake down. “So…my mum died when I was little.”

Roy blinked.

 _Shit_. What did you say to that? Not that he was unfamiliar with the situation, but he’d never been on the _receiving_ end.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said softly, praying that it was appropriate. Ed looked up from his scrutiny of the still crumbling—into crumbs, incidentally—lava cake, and Roy was relieved to see one corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile.

“Thank. But s’all right, I’ve still got Al, and we’re good. Yeah, it sucks, but…” He trailed off, and shrugged. “It was a while ago. _Point_ is,” he continued. “She, well, what she died from wasn’t curable, back then anyway. And when you’re a kid, you think that doctors can fix anything—like, that’s what hospitals are for, right? And Al…he was younger, so it was just…it was shit.” He let out a breath. “It was fuckin’ shit. And you realise that doctors _can’t_ fix everything, but when I got older I thought that maybe they…they should. Or they should try at least. So…I dunno, I thought if I could make it so that one less kid had to go through something _that_ shitty, then it’d be…something good, y’know?”

Slowly, Roy felt his heart turn in his chest, and the deep fall, one which he now knew had been inevitable.

Ed’s eyes flickered up to Roy’s, then went back to studying the little chocolate patterns he was tracing on the plate. “I know it sounds kinda dumb, when you say it like that.”

 _How_ could he even think that? How could someone so…god, how could he not see how gorgeous he was in his entire _being_?

“What’s dumb?” Roy asked.

Still completely unaware of how amazing he was, Ed shrugged. “Wanting to save the world, and whatever, but—”

“But if anyone can do it, I believe it’d be you,” Roy finished for him, laying one hand over the one that wasn’t poking at the mess of the cake. “And it’s not all silly, or stupid. I just—” Roy let out a breath. “You do realise how incredible you are?”

Ed blinked at the lava cake, then frowned. “What? No, that’s just what I _want_ to do. I haven’t done shit yet,” he protested.

“Again, I’ve no doubt you will, and that it’ll be incredible ‘shit’,” Roy said, grinning as Ed’s ears pinked up. “A full scholarship and offers to join research teams already? And I’ve _heard_ of Professor Curtis,” he went on, when Ed opened his mouth to interrupt. With his life…somewhat back in order, Roy had been looking at university courses lately, and it had been hard to miss the stern-faced Professor who had graced the cover of the Department of Health Sciences brochure. “That’s a good offer, Ed. All that? Sounds like you’ll be doing shit to me.”

Ed was blushing _furiously_ now, and the way his scowl had deepened told Roy that he was fighting hard not to smile. “Stop that,” he muttered, but his hand tightened around Roy’s.

“Make me,” Roy said, grinning like a fool.

“I will,” Ed said, expression dark. “Just you wait, Mustang. I’ll get you back.”

It was wonderful, wasn’t it? To be able to reach across and press his finger to Ed’s nose, before dropping it away, to laugh and learn to be unguarded. Hell, to feel like _flirting_ again. “I look forward to it.”

And the way Ed finally let the smile break out—like a nervous hatchling that had just found the joy of flying—had Roy linking his fingers up with Ed’s to hold his hand all the tighter, utterly content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone whose left a comment or kudos or reblogged this on tumblr. It means a lot <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RUSH POSTED PLEASE EXCUSE TYPOS I'LL FIX THEM LATER
> 
> just a head's up that both of them have their canonical injuries, and there may be discussions and Feelings about that in this chapter

As was inevitable with all things, their meal eventually wound to an end, and Roy highly resented the ticking of his watch as it signalled the evening growing later. Although it meant that there would—hopefully—be another date with Ed all the sooner, and _that_ was a prospect which Roy would definitely welcome with open arms.

Ed was still scowling when they stepped out into the cold, jackets wrapped up tight and scarves once again looped around their necks.

“Are you abso-fuckin-lutely sure—”

“Yes, Edward,” Roy said, letting the restaurant door swing shut behind him. “I’m fine with paying tonight. Besides, I’m hoping that it means that you’ll want to take me out, and I’ll get a second date.”

Apparently his hopeful smile was not as cute as he’d hoped—or else Ed was hiding any affection very well, with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “You’re impossible.”

Roy pulled the saddest face he could muster. “I’m hurt, Ed, really.”

Those broad shoulders jerked in a shrug. “Well, I didn’t say no, did I?”

“So I _do_ get a second date then?” Roy asked brightly.

Ed bumped his shoulder against Roy’s. “ _Maybe_ if you stop being so fuckin’ obnoxious for a moment.” But he was grinning as he said it, and Roy smiled back, then swooped down to kiss Ed’s cheek.

“I’ll try my utmost, then.” And he would, if it meant that he could earn himself that tiny scrunch of Ed’s nose that set Roy’s heart turning, the playful tilt of that beautiful smile.

“You better.”

It was nice, like this. The air was cold and biting as they strolled back Roy’s car, but he couldn’t really bring himself to mind. After all, the sight of Ed, relaxed and smiling with his hair glinting in lights of the restaurants that passed, was more than enough to warm Roy, more than enough to keep him content and wanting _not_ to arrive at any destination.

“Would you like a lift back?”

Ed hesitated. “I…only if…I mean, I can walk back? You don’t have to,” he finished quickly.

“But I want to,” Roy said, equally swiftly, that had absolutely nothing to do with how he wanted to spend just that much more time with Ed. And maybe get a good night kiss—long, and slow, and _deep_ , with fingertips trailing gently along Ed’s cheek, and Ed’s strong arm looped around his neck…

No. Absolutely nothing to do with that at all.

“Right.” Ed cleared this throat and seemed to be avoiding Roy’s eye, staring resolutely at the pavement. But he looked awfully pleased all the same, and Roy had to wonder whether or not his mind was running free and wild along the same, glorious path as his own. “Thanks.”

Roy smiled in return. “You’re most welcome. You have class tomorrow?”

“Yeah.”

Roy made some remark about how he had better get Ed home in that case, and then their conversation turned to trivial matters—how Ed needed to fuel his car some time this week, and Roy had to bake something for Rebecca’s birthday in a few days. It was nice, and Roy was… smitten, and so utterly _content_ with this, with Ed’s ponytail swinging back and forth as he walked, the hush of his voice in the night, his soft chuckles at Roy’s bad jokes. But there was still all this _electricity_ beneath it all, curiosity, excitement—and nervous terror that came with it all. The little bit of _what if_ and _things will go wrong_ that never really went away, the insistent urge that was stitched into Roy’s heart that good things never lasted.

But Ed was here. Ed was here, happy even in the biting chill of the oncoming winter, wrapped up adorably in his scarf and pouting from the cold, and Roy found that that was stronger than his fear.

So with Ed’s fingertips just lightly touching against his, slipping his hand into Ed’s felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Until Ed flinched at the contact, and pulled his hand away.

Roy’s heart fell.

No, it...deflated. Turned to ash, and dust, and stiff concrete that shattered to rubble and ruin—and wasn’t that just melodramatic? But that was what he was, wasn’t it? Too much wreck and ruin to be good, and really, how could he ever had been so foolish as to think that Ed might want it?

( _But he had, in the way he’d smiled at Roy, in how he’d laughed and teased and touched_.)

For a moment, he couldn’t mask the feeling of utter _loss_ as he glanced over at Ed. And that moment must’ve been enough for Ed to catch something in Roy’s expression, because then he was stumbling over apologies and curses.

“I’m sorry, it’s just—fuck, we’re just…a bit…public? I guess.”

“No, no, no, it’s fine,” Roy said hurriedly, making sure he _didn’t_ say that Ed had been fine back in the restaurant, and how he’d let Roy peck him on the cheek not moments before. “Absolutely. Nothing to be sorry for.”

“Right.” Ed swallowed, golden eyes searching Roy, before he trained them resolutely on the pavement instead. “Well, I’m sorry anyway.”

“No, don’t be.” His tone was softer now, because Ed looked so…bereft. Roy tucked his hands safely back into his pockets, because the urge was to brush Ed’s hair away and plant a kiss on his forehead, but now…

“It’s fine, I promise.”

“It’s not—it’s not _you_.”

Roy smiled, and hoped that nothing betrayed the twisting in his heart which seemed to have started up again. “It really is all right.”

Now awkward silence descended, and Roy _hated_ it. It wasn’t like there hadn’t been nerves, or slight hesitations throughout the night, but now it was just—painful. Like a lead weight had just dropped in Roy’s chest, but of course it wasn’t content with sitting—no, it had to leap and jump and send his brain into overdrive, wondering what he could’ve possibly done.

Desperately, he wracked his brains. Had he misread the situation? Maybe it’d been the pushing for the second date, so _presumptuous_ to simply assume that Ed had enjoyed himself. Sure, he hadn’t left yet, but that was only polite, wasn’t it? To stay, and then let Roy know that tonight had been wonderful, but not entirely what had come to mind, so perhaps it would be better to just part ways.

But Roy had thought—well, Ed had seem perfectly fine up until this point, and Roy just couldn’t figure out what exactly it was that had happened, only knew that something _had_ , which meant this horrible awkwardness of silence that smothered everything like thick fog, broken only by the scuff of their shoes on the pavement—

—and then Ed’s voice going, “ah, fuck it.”

Abruptly, Ed jammed his hand in Roy’s—rather violently—fumbling as he laced their fingers together.

But it was all _wrong_. Gone was the easy atmosphere that had been so comfortably woven into their evening, gone were the shy smiles and hesitant touches. Instead, Roy could see the tension in Ed’s jaw beneath the glow of the street lamp which was now too harsh instead of warm, Ed’s shoulders hunched up as if preparing for a blow. Even his grip was harsh, hard, his fingers stiff in the cold.

Roy couldn’t be the one to do that to him.

“Ed?” he ventured. “What’s…wrong?” Was something wrong? Surely something had to be wrong.

If anything, Ed hunched his shoulders even further at the question, and his fingers tightened around Roy’s. “This.”

This. What was—the date? The night? Them, together, being a thing, was that what ‘this’ was, was that the problem? But then if ‘this’ was the two of them as a…whatever they were—pair, couple, the horrible thought that _maybe they were nothing_ —then why was Ed still holding his hand?

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Roy said, hoping that honesty would be the best policy. “If I—did I do something?”

Now Ed stopped walking, whirling to glare up at Roy. “No, I meant _this_.” And _again_ his hand tightened, almost painfully, around Roy’s fingers. “Can’t you feel it?”

Roy was once again hit with the familiar feeling of being completely lost by something Ed was saying. Except this time it had nothing to do with complicated scientific equations or theories—or a strange love of tomato juice—and rather a lot to do with the fact that he couldn’t seem to decipher something vital from the pressure on his hand, and blonde brows drawn down in a vicious frown. “Feel what?”

“It’s cold!” The words were almost _snarled_ , and Roy didn’t—he had no clue what was going on, and the confusion, the nerves, and that horrible feeling of a bubble popping on an evening that had gone so _well_ had Roy’s own temper snapping up his throat.

“Ed, I don’t _know_ what you’re trying to tell me,” he said, frustrated. “I know it’s cold, it’s freezing, but I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“How fuckin’ hard is it?” Ed hissed back. “My hand’s cold!”

“So is mine,” Roy said, still disbelieving, because why was that something to be _angry_ about?

Ed stilled, the frown lifting from his brows, and his eyes widened. “Oh.” Ed swallowed, and slowly he withdrew his hand from Roy’s, and the rage dissipated back into something uncertain. “I didn’t…think about that.”

Roy was either missing some vital information, or else his capacity to compute human language had just disappeared from prolonged exposure to Edward’s brilliance. “About what?”

Ed just shook his head, and nibbled at his lip. His eyes were locked on Roy’s, and then he opened his mouth and…hesitated. Sighed out a breath, eyes darting to the pavement, before he looked back up, expression something…fearful? “Guess I’ll—can I show you something?”

“Of course,” Roy said immediately.

Still hesitant, Ed undid the buttons on his overcoat before he shrugged out of it, handing it to Roy with a murmured “thanks”, before he flicked open the button on the cuff of one of his sleeves. Still confused, Roy watched as deft fingers rolled the red of the fabric up, revealing a wrist, then Ed’s arm.

Ed held his arm out, palm up, eyes still locked on Roy’s face. Despite how his gaze was sure, Roy could still see the flickers of uncertainty in just _how_ resolutely Ed kept his eyes trained on Roy’s face, and the tense rise of his shoulders. “Touch it,” Ed said quietly. “Or, well, it might be—might make more sense if you tap it,” he amended.

Roy frowned a little, shifting Ed’s coat so it wouldn’t fall from where it was draped across one arm. “Tap it?”

“Yeah. Like, with your nail or something.”

Confused at the request, Roy decided that the exercise must have some point, some importance, if it had Ed like this—nervous, skittish, _quiet_. So without further ado, he reached out a hand to tap his nail gently against the fleshy underside of Ed’s arm.

Except that it wasn’t fleshy. Instead of the gentle bounce of resistance that Roy had expected, his finger was met with something hard, the contact with his nail causing a distinctive tapping noise to fire out quietly into the evening.

Carefully, very carefully, Roy made sure there was nothing showing on his face as he reached out once more to wrap a hand around Ed’s wrist. Solid, with no give, even when Roy pressed down gently.

“Y’know how I said Al got hit by a motorbike?” Ed said quietly, as Roy traced gently down from Ed’s wrist to his palm. Roy made a vague noise of affirmation, before he looked up from Ed’s still extended arm to catch Ed’s eye, and he felt his heart break, just a little.

The false confidence that Ed had pulled out before was gone entirely. Now, his eyes were wide, vulnerable, staring at Roy as though drinking him in for the last time, as though afraid he’d, what, run? Leave? “It was my fault,” he continued, the words all sharp edges of bitter bullets spat into the night. “Teenagers are idiots, and we’d had some _stupid_ argument and I ran off into the middle of the road without looking, and Al chased after me, then there was—I didn’t see the fuckin’ _car_ until…well, I didn’t see it, but the accident was…bad.” Ed swallowed, and the hand that Roy still held lightly in his own tensed. “You can’t see it, it’s under the shirt, but my right arm’s pretty much…gone.”

Oh.

The pieces were starting to fall into place. Slowly, slowly, Roy understood by what Ed had meant when he had so adamantly insisted that his hand was cold. It was, he found. Not so much cold as lacking warmth, even in the depths of his palms, unlike Roy’s own which were still heated despite the chill of the night. And now that he was actually paying attention—now he actually _knew_ —the sensation wasn’t quite the same, what he had thought was skin being too smooth, too solid.

“Ed…”

But Ed simply shook his head. “My leg too,” he rushed out, before Roy could speak any further. “One of them, anyway. And I know I should’ve _told_ you, but this only just…I just didn’t know when. Or how.” A weak smile—such an offensive parody of his usual bright beam—crept across his lips. “I know I should’ve, but it was still all new, and nice, and I didn’t want to fuck it up.” The bitter laugh Ed let out had another crack running down Roy’s heart. “I guess I have by trying not to, but I just didn’t—”

Roy couldn’t do this any longer, couldn’t let all that hurt and ache continue, spreading from Ed through to Roy himself. Because, by everything on this earth, didn’t Ed see how _good_ he was?

Tightening his grip on the hand in his, Roy’s lifted it to his lips, and pressed a kiss gently to Ed’s knuckles, never taking his eyes from Ed’s own gold, now widening in surprise.

“You didn’t fuck it up.”

“But—”

Instead of opting for words, Roy brushed his lips against the side of Ed’s thumb, which had the protest dying unspoken. Yes, the feel beneath Roy’s lips was more solid than skin, colder, less giving.

But it was still Ed. Still what Roy wanted.

Roy smiled, and released Ed’s hand, then unfurled the jacket that Ed had entrusted him so he could settle it back around Ed’s shoulders, and Ed lifted his hands to the material, wide-eyed. Roy ran his fingers up the side of Ed’s arm—the right one, the one that had been the source of all this confusion—before settling with looping it around Ed’s shoulders to pull him close.

“You didn’t fuck it up,” Roy repeated, brushing a stray strand of hair behind an ear. An adorable ear, really, pinked up from the cold. “I promise you didn’t fuck it up.”

“But this isn’t something you could’ve expected. I should’ve _told_ you.”

“You’re telling me now, aren’t you? And I probably don’t expect a lot of things to happen, with you. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to learn about them, Ed,” Roy said softly, still fiddling with Ed’s hair. “Isn’t that…isn’t that the point? To learn more about each other, figure it out, _together_. I haven’t been…with anyone in a while, but isn’t that—that’s meant to be what it is right? Or something like it?”

Ed leaned into the hand that stroked his hair, and clenched his eyes shut. “It’s just…it weirds people out, and it’s not exactly…pretty. I haven’t dated anyone in ages either, but…” He trailed off into nothingness, but Roy didn’t prod. He gave Ed time, because here was this brave, brave man, baring his fears and insecurity; the least Roy could do was to listen properly.

Eventually, the silence was broken by Ed inhaling harshly, before he spoke. “I didn’t want you to leave.” The words were small, and frightened, and _god_ , Roy hated him to sound like that, hated for him to _look_ like this with his eyes squeezed shut and teeth gritted together.

And Roy knew, perhaps a little, what that felt like. Because there were parts of him that weren’t quite ready to be revealed to Ed yet, weren’t quite prepared for their dark corners and ugly pieces to be lit up and scrutinised in Ed’s light. But maybe he could give…something. Maybe he could fear, yet have the courage to trust, as Ed had.

“I was injured, a few years ago,” he said quietly. “I was in the army, and…well, to cut a long story short, there was an explosion. I was burned.” _Not romantically_ , he almost said, because it was sorely tempting to have the nerves release through humour and bad jokes. Far easier than it was to endure them crawling up his throat and marching in his stomach at the memory, at the thought of the ugliness of gnarled flesh.

But one distraction would lead to another, and he’d never get through this, so he ploughed on. “I’d show you, except it’s a little chilly to be taking my shirt off,” he continued with a smile that felt too tight. “The left side of my stomach is almost entirely scar tissue.” Red and knotted and ruined. “It’s…not pretty, either. And I can’t pretend to understand, exactly, what you’ve been through. But I have parts beyond that, too, which aren’t…nice. Still, I was hoping that you’d be okay learning about them.”

 _I trust you_.

Ed’s words were quiet, but no weaker in their conviction, when he spoke. “I am.”

At his words, Roy felt little knots of fear gently come undone. Now he pressed his forehead to Ed’s, and breathed. “I’m—thank you. I was hoping that you’d be all right with me learning about you, too.”

 _You can trust me_.

Ed had opened his eyes now, and they were wide, though this time less in fear, and more in wonder. The tension that had run across his jaw was gone now, and when Roy ran his fingers lightly along that line, Ed’s lips curled into a small smile. Then the smile turned into a grin, and it wasn’t just the happiness there that finally had Roy thinking that this would be fine. That _they_ would be fine.

It was something stronger, more resolute. Conviction, and determination so concrete that Roy found himself hoping they could build something certain and unshakeable on it.

“Yeah,” Ed said. “Sounds good to me.”

Then he moved into Roy, and Roy’s heart did a slow turn in his chest when Ed’s arms wrapped around his waist to hold him, safe, and sure, and strong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just hug it out guys (the end is nigh, one more chapter to go!)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> they do the kiss. quite intensely.

Driving Ed back to his apartment was quiet, though not unpleasantly so. Their conversation was muted in the hush of the car, interrupted occasionally by Ed giving Roy directions. They chatted about everything, about nothing, about how Ed’s brother wanted to get a cat but how Ed was thoroughly resisting. Roy smirked at the tone of Ed’s voice, because it suggested that he would likely give in, and soon.

“No, he’s not—you gotta take that left turn, yeah where the white fence is—anyway, he’s not getting a fuckin’ cat, Roy,” Ed protested when Roy told him as much.

Roy snorted. “You are complaining far too much for someone who has made up his mind.”

“That doesn’t even make sense—”

“I would put good money on you having a new housemate within the month.” _I’ve heard you speak and I’m starting to know you; there’s nothing you wouldn’t do for your brother_.

“I’ll get one in thirty-two days, just to piss you off,” Ed muttered.

Grinning, Roy glanced over at Ed as he made the turn. Despite his tone, Ed was smiling, eyes unfocussed on the passing houses and street lamps beyond his window, looking utterly content. “Probably not even a fortnight,” Roy revised.

He was about to say something else—some quip about who really was the older of the two brothers—when Ed’s hand settled on his thigh, and all the thoughts which had previously belonged to Roy just…evaporated. It was an awkward touch—too stiff, a little uncertain, and Roy kept his eyes carefully trained on the road ahead. Slowed down as the eased over a speed bump, carefully manoeuvred to avoid a traffic island.

“Is this…okay?” Ed asked.

Roy cleared his throat, and fought his smile into something that perhaps looked less foolish and utterly smitten, his eyes flicking to check his rear-view mirror. He wasn’t entirely sure that he was successful. “More than.”

And at that, Ed seemed to relax, his hand now resting gently on Roy’s leg. “Cool,” he said, as though the evening hadn’t just become all the lovelier and Roy’s heart wasn’t running in circles like an excited puppy.

They stayed quiet after that, but Roy smiled the remainder of the journey, and from the couple of glances he threw over Ed’s way and what he could glimpse in the faint light of the street lamps, Ed’s own smile wasn’t fading any time soon either.

All too soon, Roy was pulling over on the side of the road, and they were outside Ed’s apartment. The quiet hum of the engine fell into nothing as Roy killed the ignition, and then he dropped his hand to the one that was resting on his leg, and squeezed gently, before turning to Ed.

“I had a lovely night,” he said, bringing Ed’s hand to his lips, enjoying the blush that rushed up Ed’s cheeks far too much. “I truly did.”

“Yeah,” Ed agreed. “We should…do it again some time?”

“Most definitely.” And Ed was so gorgeous, hair twisted gold and silver in the mix of the light cast from the moon and the streetlights, looking so _happy_ , that Roy simply couldn’t resist leaning forward to kiss Ed on the forehead. Then Ed’s arm wrapped around Roy to pull him close, and he buried his face in the thick folds of Roy’s jacket, muttering something.

“I beg your pardon?”

Ed leaned back a little, giving Roy enough room to kiss his ear. So he did just that.

“Said, ‘can I see you tomorrow?’” Ed repeated, this time with a little squirm and a grin.

“Most definitely to that as well.”

“Cool.” Ed’s fingers were now tracing little patterns along the base of Roy’s spine, each motion speaking a smooth line of affection which warmed Roy’s heart. The air was heavy with expectation, its impatient insistence chasing greedily on the heels of the conversation that was taking its final breaths. “Guess I’ll just text you or something when I’m done?”

“Works for me.” Roy shuddered when Ed leaned in to press his lips to Roy’s jaw, his fingers having stilled so his arm could better tighten around Roy’s waist. Their hands were still entwined together, and Roy tugged Ed’s hand upwards, guided it to his lips so he could trace each knuckle, press a kiss to Ed’s palm, his wrist, pull him closer to draw out that sharp intake of breath—startlingly loud in the hush of the car—when he moved his lips against the curve of Ed’s throat.

Ed’s hand had tightened in Roy’s hair, but that didn’t stop Roy from peppering his jaw with kisses, finally finishing by brushing his lips over flushed cheeks, and hovering over Ed’s lips. The night had darkened Ed’s eyes, which stared at Roy, unwavering.

“Goodnight kiss?” Roy suggested softly, when he could no longer bare the thought of another minute without one.

“Read my fuckin’ mind,” Ed murmured, the words slipping from his breath into Roy’s own, and then his lips were on Roy’s and nothing else mattered.

They’d kissed, the week before, in this very car, and Roy had been thinking of it ever since. It had been far too short the last time, and far too much time since, so Roy wasted no time in deepening the kiss, arm tightening about Ed’s shoulders to draw him ever closer because it never felt close _enough_. Ed’s breath in his own was intoxicating, as was the way his tongue swiped against Roy’s lip, his hand pushing aside Roy’s jacket to trace patterns of wildfire and electricity up the dips and valleys of his ribs.

Their breaths mingled, the rough sounds mixed with the faint little pleasure noises that Ed was making that had Roy so, _so_ drunk; Roy’s own deep groan when Ed nipped at his lip; the rustle of cloth when Roy shifted so he could lean in further, forward, _deeper_ —

“Ow, ow, wait.”

Ed jolted, startled. “What?”

Roy glared downwards. “Damn gear stick.” Moving so that the offending item was no longer trying to impale him, Roy huffed out a breath. “Sorry,” he said with a wry smile, which only grew when he saw that Ed was trying not to laugh.

“You’re fine,” Ed said, grinning. He reached up and poked Roy on the nose, which had Roy glaring.

“Excuse—”

Ed gave Roy’s scarf a few tugs. “Can I get rid of this?”

“Well, if by ‘get rid of’, you mean throw it out, then no—”

“You know what I meant,” Ed said with a snort, but he still paused, waiting for Roy to nod before he unwound the wool from around Roy’s neck.

“Might I ask why?”

Ed grinned again, wide, delighted, and—oh no—mischievous.

“So I can do this.” Now Ed was the one leaning over the gear stick, Ed was the one who was backing Roy up against his car seat, Ed was the one who— _oh_ —

Licked a line right up from the hollow of Roy’s throat, slowly, torturously _slowly_ , up and up and _up_ before his teeth closed gently around Roy’s jaw, and Roy shut his eyes and shuddered at the sensation. Little spots of white were dancing in the blackness, but Roy didn’t need to see where he was; all that mattered were the soft kisses Ed was planting on his skin, the feel of Ed’s tongue and the scrape of teeth against Roy’s collarbone.

“Ed…”

Ed hummed in acknowledgement, mouth still working over Roy’s skin, and Roy jolted when Ed’s hand gripped his waist, strong and firm. Fingers tangling in Ed’s hair, Roy…Roy didn’t know what he was doing, whether he was pulling Ed closer, _always_ closer, or if he wanted to tug him away so Roy could have _more_ , could have more of Ed’s gasp when he drew back, could have more of Ed’s lips, urgent against his own—

Roy’s grip was desperate, one hand running through tangled blonde, the other gripping at the back of Ed’s shirt, because he wasn’t entirely sure what would happen if he let go, or if his hold were any less sure. There was nothing like this. Nothing like having Ed pressed up against him, nothing like this giddy, happy _hope_ that came with Ed being here, Ed wanting him, Ed having voluntarily spent a night out with him, and now warm and solid and real in his arms.

Eventually, the desperate flames turned to steady embers, and Roy opened his eyes to Ed smiling, still a little uncertain but looking utterly delighted. His hair was an absolute mess, the ponytail having loosened from Roy’s fingers. But Ed didn’t appear to be in any hurry to fix it, seeing as he leaned forward to kiss Roy chastely once more.

“I should go back,” he said quietly, and the reluctance in his voice matched Roy’s own.

“I’ll walk you up.” But first, he brushed Ed’s bangs aside so he could kiss an eyebrow, which quirked at the contact. “Come on, I’ve got a gift for you.”

Ed frowned, but still followed suit when Roy got out of the car. “Roy, what? You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Roy said, and opened the boot of his car.

When Ed spotted the bouquet sitting there, he froze. “Roy…”

Roy gathered the colourful gift up, slamming the boot shut before he turned to Ed.

“I wanted to,” he repeated, approaching carefully. “You deserve to have something nice.”

Ed still remained silent, eyes flicking from the bouquet, up to Roy, then back down again. Roy frowned. “Do you not like flowers”

“No,” Ed said hurriedly. “It’s…it’s not that. It’s actually really…nice. It’s nice.” Now the smile was back, and Ed relaxed, relieving Roy of his load. The smile then turned into a beam, wide and unfailingly. “Um, just…I’ve never gotten them from anyone before. It’s just…really nice. Thanks.” And now he was grinning, staring down at the colourful blooms in his arms, and Roy was a blessed man.

“You’re most welcome.” Roy extended a hand, and Ed grabbed on without any hesitation. “They have meanings,” he said, inclining his head towards the bundle as they started to walk inside.

Ed raised an eyebrow. “No shit?”

“Absolutely none. Rananculus, for instance, are for radiance and charm,” he began, and as expected, Ed blinked, and then his ears promptly turned red. “For obvious reasons.”

Ed groaned. “Really, you’re so fuckin’ _sappy_.”

“It only seemed appropriate, seeing as these are plants we’re talking about,” Roy said with a grin.

“Oh my god, Roy, _no_. No puns, I’m banning your stupid fuckin’ _puns_.”

“But then you’d never hear me speak again,” Roy pointed out as they stepped inside the elevator.

Ed looked very unimpressed. “You think that’s gonna put me off in _any_ way?”

Roy huffed. “I would certainly hope so. Anyway,” Roy ploughed on, before Ed could insult him further. “Calla lilies are for magnificence and beauty.”

Roy grinned when Ed leaned against him so he could bury his face in Roy’s shoulder. “You’re so _embarrassing_.”

“I try my best,” Roy said, humming as he kissed the closest patch of blonde hair. The elevator announced their arrival, and they strolled hand in hand down the hall to Ed’s apartment. Though his cheeks were still flaming, Ed inspected the bouquet in his hand.

“All right then, what about these blue-purple things?”

They came to a stop before Ed’s door, and Ed looked up at Roy. “Blue irises,” Roy said, fond, tucking a strand of hair behind Ed’s ear. “They’re blue irises.”

“So what do they mean?”

“Well…they’re…” Roy cleared his throat. Shit. Ed was looking up at him, earnest, and curious, and now it was Roy’s turn to have his face heat up. It had seemed like a good idea, back in the flower shop with the florist who had been serving him and watching him knowingly as he described his date. But now? Now, Roy wasn’t sure if it was a little _too_ forward, a little too fast.

And Ed—intelligent, far too clever Ed—had honed in on Roy’s embarrassment immediately. “Well what?” he asked with a grin, elbowing Roy none-too-gently in the ribs.

“It’s just…perhaps a little much. I mean, if you thought that the other ones were sentimental, this might be even more—”

“Just spit it out Roy,” Ed said, far too delighted. “You chose them, you dug your own grave. What do they mean?”

Roy sighed. “Well, according to the florist—”

“If the two of your want to keep flirting, could you please find somewhere else that doesn’t involve you obstructing my doorstep?”

The two of them jolted, and Roy dropped Ed’s hand immediately to whirl around.

A man stood behind the two of them, digging around in his pockets for something. He pulled out a key, and then raised his head so Roy could see his face, and—ah.

Alphonse Elric.

Ed was frowning. “Al, what’re you doing out? You know you’re not meant to be running around yet, you still—”

“Just went down to get some milk, brother,” Al said, lifting the plastic bag he was carrying. “Yes, it is necessary, and no, I didn’t miraculously injure myself by walking around the block. I don’t believe we’ve met properly,” he said, blinding Roy with a brilliant smile before Ed could protest any further. “I’m Al.”

Roy reached for and shook the extended hand. “Roy. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Now the beam took a slightly deadly edge, and Roy resisted the urge to drop the other man’s hand immediately. “And I can only hope and trust that our relationship will remain pleasurable, Roy.”

“Al, _stop_ ,” Ed groaned. “Is this the cat thing? Is this what it is? ‘Cause you can get one, if you would just stop fuckin’ _embarrassing_ me.”

Al swung his gaze to land on his brother, releasing Roy’s hand. “Oh, this has nothing to do with the cat, but I’ll hold you to that.”

“Didn’t even last the day, I see,” Roy murmured.

Ed thumped his head against the wall.

Al laughed, and pushed his way between the two of them. “I’ll talk cat details with you later, brother. It was nice to meet you, Roy,” he said, unlocking the door to let himself in.

“It was indeed. Enjoy your night.”

The door clicked shut, and the two of them were alone again. Ed’s head was still pressed against the wall, before he sighed, and pushed himself back, glaring at the now-closed door. “Little punk,” he muttered.

“He’s nice,” Roy said. “Though slightly terrifying.”

“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.” Ed sighed, and took Roy’s hand again. “I should probably go though. He’s gonna rag on me for ages if I take too long.”

“All right,” Roy said softly. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to Ed’s once more, just to have another, final taste to hold him over until the next time. When they drew back, Roy was smiling. Again. There seemed to be a lot of that going on when Ed was around. “Thank you for tonight.”

Ed grinned back at him. “Yeah, it was good. Thanks for dinner. And the—” He gestured with the bouquet. “Though you still haven’t told me what the blue irises are for.”

Roy kissed Ed’s nose. “Ask our good friend Google.”

“Roy, c’mon,” Ed whined.

“No, you need to get inside now,” Roy said with a grin, and reluctantly, he let go of Ed’s hand. “You can laugh at me for it tomorrow.”

Ed huffed out a breath, but then relented. “Fine. See you tomorrow then.” He stepped away from Roy, opened the door and—in a few quick steps he had covered the distance between them again to hurriedly lean up to kiss Roy’s cheek, before he backed away swiftly.

“‘Night, Roy.”

Then the door snapped shut, leaving Roy blinking, the feeling of Ed’s lips still on his skin. Then he laughed, a little helplessly. “Good night,” he murmured, before he made his way back to the elevator so he could go back to his car.

The drive back was only around ten minutes, and his phone buzzed barely a few moments in, his heart doing a little flip when it did. But he waited until he was safely back in his house before he opened up the message from one Edward Elric.

 _Our good friend google says you’re a SAP_ , was all it read.

Roy smiled, and his fingers were deft as they typed out his reply.

_Not untrue. But I guess I’m your sap._

_Guess you are_

There was probably some arbitrary societal standard which said that men in their late thirties should not be grinning like love-struck fools at small handheld electronics, but Roy was far too happy to care.

_I did have a very lovely night, Edward. And thank you, for letting me learn about you._

_Ditto I guess. Thanks for…sticking around. Als hounding me to sleep so better do that. Night Roy. I’ll see ya tomorrow._

_Good night. I look forward to tomorrow. Sleep well._

Still, he didn’t set his phone down, nor ready himself for bed yet. Instead, he found himself unable to resist scrolling back up through their messages, brief though their history was, and smiling at the exchanges. Smiling at the thoughts of his night.

_The flower shop was bright, and very…green, which Roy supposed was normal. He didn’t really have time to worry about that right now, not when he was two minutes from being late, and he needed a bouquet quickly. He greeted the lady behind the counter, before he quickly stated what he was after—something for someone bright, gorgeous, and so alive._

_“These two would go perfectly together.”_

_Roy glanced down at the laminated chart of flower meanings on the counter, taking a moment to spot the right flowers. “So that one’s…radiance. Sounds right,” he murmured, largely to himself. Then chuckled at the next one. “Magnificence and beauty. He’s going to love that.” He could already see how embarrassed Ed would be, but also how Roy would get a little peek Ed being pleased at the compliment. There were few expressions Roy loved more than Ed’s smile when he was viciously trying not to._

_Roy was jolted from his thoughts by the sound of the woman’s voice. “Sorry?”_

_She laughed. “I wanted to know if this person was important to you, but from how you drifted off just thinking about him, I think my question is answered.”_

_Roy blinked. “It’s…it’s a first date. I don’t know…” He swallowed, and briefly wondered why he was baring his heart to a stranger. “It’s a first date, but he is important,” he said quietly. “Very.”_

_The lady hummed, then plucked a few blooms from another waiting bucket. “I think these would go perfectly then. Blue iris.”_

_Roy inspected the plant, found he liked the deep hue, the smooth shape of the petals._

_“And what do these symbolise?” he asked, disregarding the laminated chart in favour of pulling out his wallet._

 

When he looked down at the little words on the screen, at the promises that had been unspoken throughout the evening, he felt it. A little bit, but it was enough that it was there—the tiny, budding feeling that had grown in a run-down bar, in golden eyes, and unguarded laughter.

 

_The woman smiled._

_“Faith,” she said. “Faith, and hope.”_

Roy’s heart began to bloom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know your sap has levelled up when you gotta look up flower meanings


	8. Epilogue - Several Years Later

The doorbell rang.

“That’ll be pizza,” Roy said with a groan, levering himself up off the couch where he’d been cuddled up next to Ed. “Do you have change? All I’ve got are fifties.”

“Thieving bastard,” Ed said absentmindedly, still thumbing through his book as he yanked his wallet out of his pocket and tossed it to Roy.

“Only for you, love,” Roy said, and once money was exchanged in return for what smelled like a delicious meal, Roy headed back to the kitchen, smiling when he heard Ed’s swearing when he tripped over the cat. Though Roy turned out to have caught the clumsiness, fumbling Ed’s wallet as he tried to balance two pizzas and a garlic bread.

The wallet dropped with a small _plaf_ , and after Roy had deposited his load, he crouched down to retrieve it with a groan. It was only when he was stuffing notes back inside, Ed’s complaints floating above him, that Roy also noticed a piece of white card amongst the cash.

“What’s this?” he asked, standing up. At first he’d thought it was a business card, but then he realised that there was something handwritten on it. His fingers closed around it, but he didn’t inspect it, not without Ed’s permission.

Immediately, Ed blushed.

 _Interesting_ , Roy thought.

“It’s…well, shit, you know what it is,” Ed muttered.

“I really don’t, Edward,” Roy said, amused. “That’s why I’m asking.”

Ed made a frustrated noise, and buried his face in Roy’s chest. “You fuckin’ gave it to me,” he mumbled against the shirt.

Reflexively, Roy started stroking Ed’s hair, then slowly it dawned on him…

“Wait…can I look?”

Ed nodded, and Roy flipped the card over so he could read the writing. When his suspicions were confirmed, his heart turned in his chest.

“This is adorable,” he said quietly, smiling when Ed squirmed, and pressing his lips to Ed’s hair.

“It’s fuckin’ embarrassing.”

“Not half as embarrassing as how much time I must have spent thinking about it. It’s sweet,” Roy said, and Ed looked up at him. “I like that you keep it.”

“Yeah, well, I like you,” Ed muttered, and he kissed Roy’s jaw before drawing back. “Now put the damn thing back, I’m not having you lose it after all this time,” Ed called over his shoulder as he made his way to the dining room. “And hurry your ass up, I’m hungry.”

Roy chuckled, but did as he was told, although he couldn’t resist turning the piece of paper over in his hands one last time before slotting it back in its place, secure in Ed’s wallet.

The white hadn’t been white after all, but a pale blue. The card was slightly worn at the edges, but the simple words that Roy had agonised over were still clear after all these years.

_Would you like to go to dinner with me?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "This was as cheesy as that pizza" - a review by my sister
> 
> And that is it! Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading this. You have been absolutely lovely with you kudos and comments and tags on tumblr, and so much of this I felt like the writing wasn't working but you have all been super encouraging and seriously, that is the BEST feeling. You all rock, and I hope you enjoyed this :) 
> 
> <3


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